If you sit outside and listen to the cicadas scream soon you’ll want to join them. It’s summer, the tail end. The hotter it gets, the louder they screech. Such sweet relief. I envy them. It’s been too long since I’ve spent an evening outside. I …
Tag: personal essay
Music Is The Home Of My Dreams
Let the walls close in. Blow the roof from its rafters. Slow down the thoughts that run from the tap. Windows cracked, let the breeze kiss my skin. Shut the moon off to make my world black. Feed my hunger. Light my fire. Dress up my …
Dad, We Are Finally Free
Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 88. He died on Independence Day a few years back. I don’t know how many years back, exactly, because my dad wasn’t the kind of guy you always wanted to remember. He was often the man I’ve …
Every Day I Fight Just Like You
My shirt says, Everyday I Fight. My shirt is a lie. I bought it to support the cause, my cause, desmoid tumors. I wear it because it’s soft. Because I don’t mind sweating in it. Because it fits my mood and my wardrobe, both mostly black. …
It Happens Whenever It Happens
“She looks like the Dutch Boy. Do something.” Three sisters surrounded the fourth. I began fluffing my sister Fran’s hair with a brush in one hand and freezing the look with the hairspray held in the other. I was 16, she 28. I hadn’t the faintest …
The Jetties Aren’t Made For Yoga
The jetties are not made for yoga. Gargantuan boulders, some the size of a small car, stacked one on top of the other in impossible configurations. Rocks so large you know the stack won’t tumble, but with every step you still feel like there’s a chance. …
The Day I Forgot I Was Sick
It was the kind of warm evening you look forward to after such a long winter. Days of rain left the air sticky enough to remind you summer was right around the corner, but cool enough to let you know it’s still spring. It felt nice. …
Every Woman Is A Mother
There was a Mother’s Day about a month before my mom died, but I don’t remember it. I remember seeing her frail yellowed body in the hospital bed as the priest gave her last rites. I remember picking out the outfit she would be buried in. …
I’m Maybe Definitely Not Who I Used To Be
The internet will tell you what you are, how you should live, and who you’re supposed to be. If you let it, that is. After a few weeks of sleepless nights due to unexplained insomnia my usual rock solid cynical suit of armor was worn down …
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