They discussed poetry, insulted each other, and shared a mild existential crisis.
In the garden, I am the number one helper granddaughter/grandson— he’s the vegetable veteran, hands blending into the soil. My fingers clumsy and pale, the onion bulb to his roots. He follows, instructing and inspecting with as many “that a girls” as beans in my bucket; the weight driving the handle deeper into my palm.... Continue Reading →
Those incidents in life I pushed deep down surface before sleep and I’m reliving the day when I was 14 and pissed myself at youth group because I was laughing too hard. I tried to hide it, but I fear 20 years later, everyone knew and they still think about it every god damned day.... Continue Reading →
It’s hard to recall the actual act but at least it was in a bed and not the backseat of his Firebird or in a movie theater or a friend’s house. He made sure of that. He was alright sometimes, but they all are. Sometimes. What woman hasn’t had painful intercourse?
Since they never married and he wasn’t there to argue, his line was left blank on my birth certificate; I inherited my mother’s past identity as my own. Every year, I imagine him wrestling with the feeling of having forgotten an important name and going through the alphabet letter by letter. He makes me wonder... Continue Reading →