I love birthdays! They are the days of the year when we celebrate our individual existences on this lovely planet. And I am shameless about telling anyone who pauses to chat: Today is my birthday! Consequently, between my personal encounters, whether planned or unplanned, and the messages of love that stream in via Facebook and email, my life appears to…
I am empty. A hole as big as the moon inside of me. Bottomless, so I cannot fill it. Nothing in my realm of experience offers knowledge of how to replenish the void that swallowed my soul. I hurt. Each new injury either self-inflicted or by another—emotional or physical—stretches and extends the cavity. Like the tearing of skin and muscle…
I came into this life stuttering. My mother had three false alarms on three consecutive days. On the fourth trip to the hospital, my father said he wasn’t going back home again. Once admitted to the maternity ward, she was in labor for 36 hours. My starts and stops exhausted her. My mother was 40 years old. By the time…
