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On the car ride home, my husband squeezes my hand.
There’d been talk in my family about me becoming a doctor, but my brain was wired for syntax and iambic pentameter, the rhythm and wholeness of a per…
So before she had met me, this stranger had scolded me twice.
Consider these boys,the ones thick with scarsfrom sitting down and shutting up,tearing down and manning up;the ones who keep the hammer cocked.
My father took the guns because, out of the three of them, he was the only one who didn’t have a felony.
It can happen behind a wheel or a keyboard— anywhere with an intention to think without interruption and to keep going despite fear.
Their body knows it happened.
Having watched Bridesmaids a number of times now… enough that I can do sections of the drunken airplane speech fairly accurately I think it is time.