One day you will be loved the way you are supposed to be loved. They will soak up all of your laughs, smiles, and tears. They will stand beside you in your weakest moments. They will hold onto every word that slips from your lips. TheyRead More
You told me today that you were seeing someone. It’s been two months since we’ve had a rendezvous. In total, we have spent maybe 20 days together. I’m just guessing. I don’t do math here. That’s your job.
I played it cool. I wished you well. We said we would stay in touch.
When picturing the afterlife I see you. In an endless field of dandelions we run.Read More
Stewie died almost a year ago when he was sixteen. Sadly, his life ended in suffering; he had kidney disease and all of our attempts to care for him, to make him comfortable, failed. He was skin and bones, and dragged himself from room to room. It was past time when my husband took him to the vet to be euthanized.Read More
There was once a man I needed to have be dead. I got as far away from him as I could get, and told myself that was far enough. Then time went by, years, and whenever he came into my mind, which was less and less over time, I told myself he was surely dead by now.
But last night as I was falling asleep, a voice said you don’t know. You don’t know for sure he’s not drinking a beer right now. People can live a surprisingly long time.Read More
He will never be you. His eyes will never see through to my soul. His smile will never make me catch my breath.Read More
To turn my lover into poetry I would have to elaborate on the way his bony arms look fragile but are strong enough to hug me tight enough to put the shattered pieces of me back together again.Read More
I have a stack of sleep books on the dining room table as high as my head. I’ve read every blog, posted in (almost) every Facebook group. I’ve followed “sleep gurus” on Instagram – guides on this never ending journey to figure out how to get my child to nap. And now I’m dissenting from the groupthink.Read More
Right now I am thinking about his eyes. Blue as the ocean but lacking violence. I want to submerge myself in them but his innocence keeps me afloat. IRead More
My Daddy lived with me before he died. I didn’t write during that time. I wish I had known then about how healing it can be but knowing myself as I do now—somewhat petulant and always right, of course—I probably would’ve flung aside the idea that anything could help. Besides, when would I have had time to write? Puh-leeze! I was teaching full-time, I had a teenage daughter, my marriage was falling apart, my siblings were nowhere to be found, and I was fast approaching menopause.Read More