Within the branches

There, do you see it?"

Elloise lay hidden amongst the backdrop of green, a calico pink nose and swishing tail perched with the layers. Her nose perks and gives two gentle, alert sniffs. A small bird arrives just out of reach, singing a call to its tribe.

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We put feathers in each other’s hair in my basement. My basement is still crawling with them. Feathers swim on the air filter’s breeze, landing on and launching off of my mandala rug.

It was a silly thing, that time we found ourselves connected. It was silly because it was true. You loved me and I loved you and we loved in the midst of a sand-covered desert, a space that was almost completely sand. We were best friends for a while, chicks hatching out of best friend eggs, and then we weren’t.

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One Next Thing

This morning I heard from my mom. “I have some really sad news,” she said on the phone line. “Mr. Strange has died. He fell of the roof cleaning the gutters in preparation for the storm.” He was my volleyball coach for most of high school and his two daughters are close to my age. Suddenly my heart was taken back to the moment I found out about my dad. I felt heavy and burdened with the road ahead for his sweet daughters. What a tremendous sadness that will follow them has they begin to navigate life without this man that loved them so deeply and cared for all of us so well. 

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Confession from a Mother

I am pretty, educated, upper middle class, and successful. I am also 52, almost divorced from an abusive partner, have lost $2 million dollars, and a few years ago I wanted to put a pillow over my children’s faces to suffocate them. All of this is true. And I’ve never told anyone about the latter desire. It’s too grotesque. And it’s what enables me look at those headlines, “monster mother drowns children in bathtub” differently than most. 

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