When folding the towels, I run my hands along the patterned grid. In the transition from a quiet grey to a louder grey, there is a row of loops of thread. Big circled loops cinched above small neat lines. They look like a series of twos. Happy birthday, baby, I say aloud, as I do every time I see 222 in the world. I didn’t … Continue reading 2/22/22
Grief is light, I tell myself in the middle of another sleepless night. Sometimes I try to keep myself grounded but it is impossible when you hold so much light, when you are so much lighter than air, so much lighter than light. I think I could float away. I think I could be a star– just look how my name has collapsed into a … Continue reading grief is
So often I love the blank page of a blog. I could write anything here. I could write: some plankton can make little clouds above their own heads when the sun is too bright. This is true. I could write: some people bring their rainclouds with them wherever they go. I am afraid of becoming this kind of person. This is metaphorically true, then just … Continue reading blank
I haven’t felt like myself since Kozo died. I wish this wasn’t true. He wouldn’t want that. I wish I was better at grief. I’ve had so much practice, and yet, here I sit: dimmed. At his memorial, I cried through my reading. I really thought I could make it all the way through, but I was talking about emptiness and fullness, and how life … Continue reading on grief-dimmed joys
Sometimes the road seems paved, but you still slip through. You leave a crack in the flooring and think, I’ll get to it, but then you don’t, and then time flaps its gargoyled wings and the crack becomes a pothole, and you fall in. Today, I fell in. I sobbed in my bathroom for awhile, watching my face contort into something truly mythical. The way … Continue reading the scream
When I can’t quite build a thought out into something solid enough for this blog, I will often post it to Instagram with the tag #LilliputianLog. The last weeks have seen a few of those posts so I thought I’d share them and the content here for those who aren’t on the other platform. _______________________________________ 03.19.2021 I traced my husband’s handwriting onto a handkerchief, then … Continue reading lilliputian logs
On the farm where I grew up, the sky would shatter in the winter. It would drop shavings of frozen, clumps of ice sliver. It would breathe in all the months before and exhale a steady shivering of frost. The roads would glisten slick, like the walkway outside my front door. And we, the people who tended to the ground, who planned for this — … Continue reading salting this year
Yesterday, it was the grief that lingers like the smell of pine when the Christmas tree has already been removed. You take big gulps of your own volition, seeking the pockets of air that would fill your lungs with memories. When you breathe out, they scent your nostrils and weigh down your tongue with a realization of gone forever. A heavy tongue, a heavy heart, … Continue reading dialects
rarasaur 