Three Years

Tomorrow marks the third anniversary of my beloved mom’s death. I can feel it in my bones, this passing of time. When her death date rolls around, I get heavy, reflective. I exist in a realm that is sacred. I laugh loudly and cry too easily. I sit in silence, my thoughts as quiet and […]

It’s My Birthday!

I sometimes wish I’d been an adult when my mom was in her 30s and 40s—that I could have been her best friend instead of her daughter. I look at her pictures back then, and I see this gorgeous, sexy, vibrant woman—a part of her I never had the privilege of knowing. She was so many people, and I only knew a fraction of her.


Dear Diary, I was at the pool a few days ago, all by myself, floating on a noodle and snoozing in the sun. My book was on a towel at the edge of the water, my water bottle sat beside it. It was 95 degrees, and even though the water was warm, it was the […]

The Most Tender Bruise

Last week, I banged the back of my hand against an aggressive meter jutting out of a brick wall. My fingers tingled, and a bruise immediately began to spread. (It seems I can’t sneeze without bruising these days). It was sore to the touch, and I whined about it for a good 24 hours. Today, […]


I dream her every night. So far, they haven’t been dreams of comfort, but dreams of discontent. Perhaps it’s my own body, my own soul, fighting against what has been made true by life and death, by the limits of our corporeal selves.

Misty, Watercolor Memories

Someone asked me today how I was. It was a casual question from a casual acquaintance. The kind of question in which the one who’s asking expects a “Fine, thanks. How are you?” But that’s not what I said. Instead, I awkwardly blurted, “My mom just died.” “I’m so sorry. We all go through that. […]