I wanted our first date to end at midnight but he didn’t leave until 2.
All tagged love
I wanted our first date to end at midnight but he didn’t leave until 2.
A moment of frozen time, preserved for two alone.
Yes, they told me, the singer of the band is your old boyfriend.
“Mommy, I don’t love you.” My two-year-old stands in the bathtub, smudging foam onto her belly.
I bask in the warm cinnamon heat, wishing I had held back till we finished the sugary churro funnel cake she had ordered with uninformed optimism.
I used to look in the mirror and see my father. Now it's my mother who stares back.
My 77-year-old mother and I have a system: She texts me an emoji every morning when she wakes to let me know she's alive, and I text one back as a receipt.
My brain Rolodexes forward, backward, cataloging things that won’t stay done as I fight to stay with this moment.
Before I can swipe left, you call.
Whenever I visit we mostly sit as familiar strangers and talk about the tea. Once in a while, though, there’s a small window, five minutes max, when her eyes sparkle.
We passed a line of peahens. “I wish we’d passed elephants,” she said.
Chop, a hunk of hair. The scissors flashed as I grabbed heavy handfuls and cut it down to the scalp.
A burnt orange glow reflected on our cheeks, the fire warming air more accustomed to the winter chill.
My sister lies dying. She cradles a rag doll. “It looks like you,” she says.
I’m lost in numb daydreams, gazing at lush oak trees. Craving more, I squint through the leaves and branches.
I sat opposite my wife, but this was not the date I had planned. This had become hostile, confrontational.
It’s 10:50 a.m. on what otherwise would have been a usual work-dominated Monday morning, and I find myself slowly running out of patience as I wait for him at a deserted metro station.
I wanted forever. You thought you wanted forever.
I choose rye, it seems dignified and things are awfully broken.
Downtown in summer just before punk exploded, we walked 7th Avenue around Christopher Street past the leather bars. He was so tall, he took two steps for my every one.