03 June 2016

Graduation Day

"Oh, Big A.

What you did to my heart, that moment first I saw you.

I could feel the heart within me rip and twist in ways I'd never known, in just that first second that I peered upon you.

There was a light, so bright, so clear and so true in that moment; it was piercing in its clarity, blinding in its rapture. Everything I had learned up to that moment, unlearned. Everything I thought that I had held dear, lying neglected upon the floor of my life as I worshiped at your altar.

I couldn't sleep, because I had to keep gazing upon you, making promises to you. I remember them, my little girl, and I will keep them. I just hadn't intended on them being so long in the making.

That night, so long and snowy ago. That night, only yesterday, wasn't it, sweet child? Wasn't it then, my little thing, that you first laid within the confines of my arms? Wasn't it only a minute ago that I first caressed your cheeks?


It wasn't.

I blinked, and then Ten."

15 April 2016

The Things I Cannot Talk About, Part One


Thing One stands about 5'9 and looms large on my horizon.

It has long legs, strong arms, a beautiful mind.

And It has wings.

Big wings. 


Over the course of the last year, I've often found myself thinking about my sister and Her Thing.  

I think about how hard it was to see Him fly away.

I recall vividly her front porch and how she and I, illuminated by the moonlight, sat talking very late into the night one warm summer evening. 

So very late, in fact, that before we thought to be aware, the night had suddenly disappeared and transformed into The Morning That She Had To Release Him.

From those memories an ache deep within me rises so quickly and so violently that I cannot bear to reflect on the morning that is advancing so rapidly toward me: The Morning When I Have To Release My Thing.



Sometimes I can hear The Thing. 

There are moments when the sound of her wings fluttering against the sides of her cage become so emphatic, so loud, that I close my eyes tightly as I did when I was a child and I tell myself, "It's all okay, it's all okay. There's nothing there. Put those thoughts away. Push them back down. It's not real. It's not real. It's okay."

I can make myself believe that indeed, it's all in my head. 

It's all in my head. 

I'll inhale a deep breath and slowly open my eyes.

And then I hear the flutter of her wings again and I know The Thing is real. 

And I know The Thing is stirring. 

And It isn't in my head. 

Far, far worse: It is within my heart.

18 October 2013

A Letter To My Grandfather In October

I remembered how at your funeral there was a place in your casket where notes could be placed; how we were encouraged to write something down; how I was instantly suspicious and how my mom had said, "Jennifer, come on."

10 October 2013

Before I Was Me

The Queens and I had the gift of today together and while we were running around playing, suddenly the sight of them laughing caught me off guard and sent me careening backwards, into yesteryear, my own sister by my side, a fall day shining down on us.

There was nothing particularly memorable about the day, nothing specific regarding the memory, but just for a moment, I could almost feel her beside me, her hand in mine, the way that she'd lean on me.

It struck me then, while I was lingering between what I thought would be and what is, that I've spent a lot of time thinking of what is to come, rather than focusing on what is now.

09 October 2013

And What Will You Do?

 *This post has been edited; please see below for updates. 

I cannot express how sad I am to write this post.  I have written drafts with many paragraphs, linked to many sites, raged many rages, cried many tears, but we've all read enough words and seen enough news.

Ultimately, I don't believe that I can write what I want to say.  Instead, I am going to use minimal words and try to get my point across in photos.

I ask that you click on each one; study each face; memorize each detail, for those details are important.