Something about time makes me feel like I have to tighten my fist around it. Like there won’t ever be enough. This year, I kept forgetting which anniversary we were approaching. When I was in the trenches of early grief, I thought that was the hard part. The firsts, the seconds, the whiplash. But then … More What’s Left Behind
Written in Dublin, Ireland, June 2017 I appreciate being in a place where the sky looks like it might leak thunder at any given time. The gray doesn’t matter. The gray I can edit with the brightness factor on my camera. Even through a window, even as the clank of the bus gears slows, I … More Old Friends
It was a highway snaking away from Chicago. It was before I knew what a highway was. We had the windows rolled down because my mother wasn’t there, and she was the one most worried about wind and July bugs and other things. The car smelled of McDonald’s and I was young enough that that … More
So my hometown is one great big cosmic joke and I’m stuck writing about it because I can’t lose my shit every time I step into HyVee, or Panera, or everywhere. This entire town is a liminal space: I’m 21 but I’m scared of the same people I was scared of at high school show … More my hometown as a cosmic joke
noor of my heart 