In March, I started seriously thinking about writing a memoir, and this memory is what I thought would start it, because I wanted to capture the busy softness of my life before. I wanted to start it in a way that said it was more of a love story than a horror story, but horrible things definitely happen.
I don’t remember learning how to love, originally. I only remember the origins of little love-habits. I remember […]
My cats didn’t eat my husband’s dead body. I asked. The very nice lady said she would have […]