Whenever I walk into that apartment, I'm flooded with an acute mixture of intimidation, admiration, and comfort. The walls are a deep red and adorned with as much Biggie street art as they are with master’s degrees. At the window, the gauzy cream curtains billow calmly in the ...
All Summer ’16: The Summer Bucket List
I was 16 when I made my first summer bucket list. I was going to get a hand modeling gig. I was going to build a tire swing (with my beautiful hands?). I was going to attend a foam party. I was going to buy a yellow dress. I did none of those things. In fact, I was grounded before summer solstice, ...
I’m Going to Die at 38 (& Other Pieces of My PTSD Puzzle)
It wasn’t that I wanted to die. I just couldn’t see myself living. In the dusk of 2014, I sat at an auntie’s table and screamed, “I don’t know!” in answer to each of her questions. What do you want to be? What do you what to do? What would make you happy? I couldn’t bring myself to tell ...
When My Mother Whispers
I hate it when my mother whispers. She never shares secrets about fairies or magic. Whispers from my mother’s mouth almost exclusively mean bad news.It always starts with a “come hither” motion, from her eyes or her hand. She pulls me down to a seat at the table, she draws me in with her eyes, ...
A Writer Afraid of Writing
Dear Abby, or Minerva, or Whomever is heading up these lifestyle columns these days, I have to write this to you because that’s what whiny people who don't really want to confront their problems do: they divert them, instead of facing them head-on. My Gram would call people like this, people ...
- « Previous Page
- 1
- …
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- …
- 27
- Next Page »