I just wrote the shittiest first draft of the story (much of) my life is built around. How can something so near be so hard to pin down in words? But when the cursor blinked at me, a little mockingly, if I’m honest, I just kept pressing on, focusing on the tippity-tap of the keyboard... Continue Reading →
Our first Valentine's Day together, Simon got me a flashlight. Oh, he got me some red roses, too. But the flashlight was the main present. He wanted me to be prepared, just in case. This is his way, laying a path and making way for my independence, nurturing my strength. But I didn't know that... Continue Reading →
So I told her to make her own damn sandwich. (Note: I did not actually say damn out loud. But I said it real, real loud in my head. I think she could probably hear it) She huffed and puffed while she made her sandwich. I took my coffee and my English muffin to the other side of the kitchen, where her huffing was muted by the snorting of the dog.
A gritty, honest exploration of change, loss, and joy as it's unfolded in my life.
Sometimes grief feels more like empty space. A vague longing for what used to be. It’s a nagging sort of sadness, one that I keep trying to reason away. But reason and grief have never been particularly compatible. So it goes. My grandmother used to get up before the morning light got strong and bright... Continue Reading →
We’ve entered the season of snark with Jane. And, dear God, it is wearing me down.
How My Partner & I Completely Fell Apart After His Transition Photo Cred: RM Lathan When Simon transitioned, I knew — knew down in my bones — that this would be better. For him. For our family. For our daughter, Jane. But that knowing clashed directly with my belief about who I was — defined largely by being a lesbian. I couldn’t... Continue Reading →
I write vignettes: tiny little glimpses into my world, in which everything resolves neatly in the end. Which makes my life seem put together, wrapped up, tidy. But, really, there is a lot of mess before the lesson is learned, before the big picture becomes clear. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the mess.... Continue Reading →
In the very first, raw days of being sober, Amy and I clung to each other for support. Since the day we met, at a local lesbian bar, we’d been co-conspirators—very drunk co-conspirators. Now, the same two people who’d spent the past five years egging each other into hitting up happy hour every day were... Continue Reading →
