It’s crowded, overwhelming. People are everywhere. Some look at me, some don’t. I look at both no one and everyone at the same time. This isn’t my thing. Crowds, heels, dresses, sobriety. Where’s the bar? How far can it be? How long does it take to get a drink? Just one drink? Or I guess … More Home
“What happened to seven-year-old me when I turned eight?” Yeah, try fielding that one from your child. I’m telling you, my parents were saints for the weird conversations they had to deal with. “What do you mean?” my mom asked, looking toward my dad. He just shrugged. “Where did she go?” I asked. “She’s right … More 2021 Me
My love language is car rides. Got an errand to run? Take me with you. Forgot one thing at the grocery store and need someone to be a warm body in the front seat so that you don’t have to actually park the car? I’m right there. Have some random Facebook Marketplace item to pick … More Car Rides
Skip the turkey—load up on mashed potatoes. That’s my plan this year. That’s my plan because I don’t actually like turkey that much. That’s my plan because I do really like mashed potatoes. That’s my plan because my late husband felt the same way, and he always wanted to skip on the turkey and load … More My Holiday Wills and Wont’s
“Am I a sociopath?” Yup, that’s right. That line, verbatim, can be found in my very own Google search history. I searched that last week. I searched it, because I am in the midst of grief, the thick of it, freshly widowed, brand spanking new to life on my own, still seeking fervently for an … More Fine Thanks, Just Widowing
Grief is dreaming. It is me watching, working, manufacturing the process of making all of your dreams come true, even if you’re not here to see it. Grief is the fear of the bittersweet ache sure to appear on the day that I start pursuing my own dreams again. Yours are easier. Yours keep you … More Grief
Words fail me. They never use to. Words were always my friend. They had my back. Even when sometimes they were a bit unrefined, impulsive, sharp- they were there. Over the past few weeks words have been hit or miss with me. Sometimes my mind is loud, the words are clear. But some days they … More Well Done
My 65-year-old neighbor puts my trashcan out on the street for me every Friday morning. It’s the smallest gesture, but it means the absolute world to me. My next-door neighbors are originally from Nigeria. Earlier this year, they learned that my husband had stage four cancer, and the wife of the pair rushed out one … More First World Probs.
I broke up with Stephen King about three years ago. We had a solid go of it for a while- I’d read his books, he’d scare me half to death, and then a few months later I’d forgive him and we’d pick up where we left off- the next book. We would then do the … More You Are What You Read
Yesterday, Andrew and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary. For those of you who didn’t marry a traditionalist like I did, the second wedding anniversary is the cotton anniversary. In addition to being a traditionalist, my husband is a sentimentalists. What this means is: I have a tub full of t-shirts in my basement that … More The Lucky Ones
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