Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
Why does our new house always feel dark? Some nights, the darkness steals my sleep, seeping from the corners of my bedroom. Is the house gloomy, or the people inside? The backyard looks so light, so bright, but it’s merely the snow’s reflection. My mother has a new bird book, Read more
The dress is navy blue. Navy blue with cream color trim around the neck and armholes. It is a size small. I bought it to wear for an Easter Sunday; I don’t remember the year. The dress is one of the few pieces of clothing in my closet that doesn’t Read more
See how she scuttles across the floor The cold tile numbs, then burns Her palms, knees, shins All portions of flesh pressed on The harder thing—the hardest thing Not cursed yet— —Soon Then there’s this back The thing that holds her together The thing she’s built around Grew up around Read more
What if there had been consequences? What if there had been real, meaningful, painful consequences for that unspeakable act all those years ago? Would he still be alive today? What if he had been stripped of his fame, his fortune, his ego back then? What if he had been shunned Read more
People ask me about the color of my hair, but they don’t care—why would they? — about the color of my thoughts. People ignore the pink-copper hues of my ideas— gondolas gliding through my brain; they don’t see their turquoise blue shades— paper boats caught in a vortex. People ask Read more
I’ve never minded solitude. For a writer, it’s a natural condition. But caring for a dementia sufferer leads to a particular kind of loneliness. —Laurie Graham My mother is leaving me. Her mind allows her to tell me about my favorite stuffed animal when I was three, my Effalunt, but Read more
It’s been over six years now, since I last spoke to my father: mid-summer, July 15th, 2014. I was in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and he was lying on a gurney at a funeral home — dead as a doornail. To hide the incisions of his autopsy, the back Read more
