Twenty one days into January and I’m only now getting around to writing this piece…which is sort of a really fantastic metaphor for how 2018 is unfolding thus far. I’m cold. To the bone, I am cold and I cannot seem to get warm. No matter how many baths I languish in or pairs of … More 2017: the hits [Part I]
My feet are planted firmly on the ground. My life, to an outsider, appears simple – boring, even. It doesn’t feel boring…at least not the kind of boring we ascribe to the uninteresting. Maybe it takes another soul who’s survived years of groundlessness, fear, and chaotic discontentment to understand the ethereal beauty of my day-to-day. … More all is calm; all is bright.
I originally wrote the following in Spring 2016. It’s been sitting as a draft ever since, though I’ve returned to it from time to time…like someone studying the pages of an old photo album. As I settle into my second year of sobriety, it’s become more and more difficult to remember what it looked like … More the look of it.
This year, for the first summer in five summers of apartment living, I took advantage of the community pool, which opened each morning at 10:00 A.M. weather permitting. For such an enormous complex, I expected a less-than-desirable experience but was pleasantly surprised to find the place very clean and completely dead until about 1:00 P.M. … More I swimmed! [once around the sun]
I think about you every day, if only for one swift and fleeting moment. Sometimes I glance in the direction of the apartment we used to share when I pass the building on my way to work. I wonder if you still live there. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a light in … More lovers past.
Late-August and early September settled over my life and into my bones like a lingering storm cloud or a bad chest cold. I struggled against the days…railed against waking moments. Finding my way back to center required the vast majority of my energy and left little room for anything else. By September 10, I was … More the things we keep.
So here’s what happened. My beloved was standing at the stove, cooking our breakfast at 7:00 A.M. on Sunday morning because apparently I’m the kind of person who has a beloved and lets someone cook for me and enjoys waking up very early – even on Sunday mornings. I was relaxing, drinking coffee, and scanning … More cautionary tales.