“It is good people who make good places.”
The first few weeks of December always make me think of my great aunt Georgie.
I have no real memories of Grammy, her sister. Everything I do know about Grammy comes from scraps Grampy would tell me. » Read more
It doesn’t matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.
Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
“Page!” Skyspook says. It’s a whip to my ears. » Read more
“Why are you here today?” the therapist asked me.
I stared into the cup of tea in my hands. Three people at the counseling center had asked me if I wanted something to drink, and by the third ask, I was starting to feel extremely rude turning them down. But truth was I didn’t want it. » Read more
“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”
I can still remember the way Kurt’s eyes would turn. Silver, flinty flashes.
“There’s a war out there,” Kurt would say. » Read more
We all mess up from time to time. We’re human. And it can be especially hard getting called out when we make a mistake, doubly so when it’s by someone we care about. But if we do hurt someone we’re close to, it’s good for them to tell us so we can do better.
Except sometimes the criticism isn’t valid. » Read more
Suspecting that the Republican National Convention would turn Downtown Cleveland into a Robocop-esque martial law clusterfuck, I recently took time off work and took a cruise to Alaska to avoid the insanity and epic commutes. It was an amazing trip. Alaska is pretty goddamn beautiful. We saw bald eagles flying around every which where (in Alaska they’re about as common as geese are here). » Read more
It’s a late night in August. Over the day, the house warms like the world’s laziest oven, a slow cooker. Our HVAC is slowly but surely giving up the ghost. At night, we cling together in the bedroom, however many BTUs shooting out of the window unit like pillars of ice melting instantly when they hit our skin. » Read more
“Page, you stupid fucking whore, I love you, cut it out!” J yelled at me.
I was sinking into the grass, full of innumerable shots. “No, leave me alone, I’m going to stay out here until I freeze.” At least that’s what I meant to say. I’m sure it was slurred, smeared, obscured somehow. » Read more
“You are right, and I hate that you’re right, but you are, and I don’t know what to do with that.”
I think or say this more often that I would like to. Usually it’s when I’m talking to my husband, and it always underscores to me that while I have done a lot of work on myself the past few years, » Read more
“One pill a day,” Dr. Fodor said. “And your daughter will be fine.”
The social worker laid her hand on my mother’s arm. “See, Mrs. Turner, I told you. There’s plenty that can be done. She won’t be inpatient forever.”
“She’s starting to remember who she is,” Dad added. » Read more