He should be eighteen But will remain forever nine The little boy with the laughing eyes And the mop of curly untameable hair Caught forever in endless days of childhood A chance word A song on the radio It catches me unaware Reopening a wound that has never fully healed My heart screams in pain And I am hurled once more upon the jagged rocks of memory. A phonecall in the night My sister's tears Her mumbled words Her grief rends the world I hold her tight Yet cannot touch her...more
Sitting shiva is a Jewish mourning ritual; seven days where the family is surrounded by friends and community who bring them food and share memories about the person lost. The purpose is to comfort the mourner--and what better way of stating your desire to comfort them than by taking time out of a busy schedule to show up and be present.
My breakup began around the beginning of January last year. For a long time I designated January 5th for when it all began. I'm not sure exactly if it was that day, but January 5th always seemed right to me. I didn't move out until February 16th, so that's when it will be officially the One Year Anniversary. So to commemorate this time last year, my subconscious has decided that every night I have to have some kind of dreadful, nightmarish, gut-wrenching dream about my ex; every night since New Years Eve. Every. Fucking. Night....more
by Michele BuchananI remember everything, or at least the things that matter. I remember every pore of his skin, the encysted bump he had on the back of his head, the way he looked like a droll rabbi when he steepled his fingers. I remember the smell of his skin. I remember the lopsided grin he’d get, so wolfish and calculating and triumphant, when he’d won an argument....more
January 1st saw the posting of the fourth annual Creme de la Creme list--the ALI (adoption/loss/infertility) community's answer to the ubiquitous award lists that go up each winter. Rather than deeming one blog post better than another, all bloggers are encouraged to submit their best post of the year--somewhat like the Best American Short Stories--to create a compilation that encompasses the diversity of the community.
I was trying to find the right way to express myself this morning and realized I couldn't call up the right words. It wasn't that I don't know them, it's that my memory seems to be fuzzy.
I had an idea that I was 'off' when I went to take a shower, my first in 3 days, and I left my glasses on. I guess it was the better to see myself. Or, it could be that pesky memory thing again.
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