Ramblings of a writer in the PNW that manages child, divorce, stupid housing prices, SAD, ADHD, ASD, GAD, MDD… and FOMO. Well, not really the last one. F-that.
The mousse that ended a marriage.
A birthday card confession.
An arc of precious metals flying through the air.
Disappear into the mud and reeds.
It was about the love. Loving crossed a hard line.
“This is the National Suicide Prevention Line…”
I was having a panic attack. It was the middle of the morning of an average Seattle…
James checked in with her by text at just after 8am. “Good morning. How are you?”