There’s a day in my journal where I wrote, “I just don’t want this life I’ve been given. I know it doesn’t work that way, but I can’t do this anymore.”
On this particular day, I was reminded of the taste of disappointment. I was reminded of how disappointment takes hold of your heart and seeps into every pore in your body. …
You forgot to tell me how hard this grown-up thing would be.
I found all the letters you wrote me over the years in your tiny fairy cursive. Don’t worry, I’ve kept them safe in a heart-shaped box that I wouldn’t let Mom throw away with all the other junky keepsakes. Your tiny letters are too special to me. In a way, I think they’ve shaped me.
You started writing when I turned seven- or eight-years-old. My friend Kaitlynn had a fairy, Star Dust, who I met at a sleepover and I learned that I had my own special fairy…
I didn’t expect to meet you in the dentist’s chair.
“Oh, you’re such a pretty girl,” the fifth, maybe sixth, dentist said. “But those teeth…”
Smiles poke my attention now, hitting a nerve with every passing 80-year-old woman with pearly whites. Are they real? Dentures? Crowns? Did it hurt?
“I’m addicted,” my aunt said. “It’s like my new dirty little secret.”
My aunt works as a full-time writer now, focusing on her craft in a little room built off her garage they call Monk’s House. But she’s not sneaking a puff before she scoops the Chunky Monkey. She’s not binging on a few cold ones alone in the middle of the day.
She’s watching Friends. My friends: Phoebe, Joey, Monica, Ross, Rachel, and Chandler.
In my life with an autoimmune disorder, sometimes my immune system decides it’s too busy attacking itself to help me recover from your basic sniffles…
I begged her to stop saying that to the neighbors and the hair stylist and the gynecologist, mid-pap smear.
One time I did wander into Starbucks to meet a guy that the Match.com Minions paired me up with. He was about five inches shorter than his posed-on-a-rock profile shot led me to believe. And he babbled about this $600 gold frame he bought his dad for Christmas for (honestly) a solid 12 minutes.
Then he moved right along to the gifts for his mom and his two sisters, and I think he had a brother. All of them would receive…
The first time it happened was when my mouse ran across the perfect apartment for my next coming-of-age move. You know, the kind of Craigslist ad that uses impeccable grammar so you’re sure that an actual human lives behind the screen, not a send-me-money-now scammer hoping for a wire transfer. (I’m pretty sure transactions like these died with the corded home phone).
I still worked in my first job out of college and still cared about loving my office with a door that closed and the way that my business cards puffed up to invite a client to dance the…