This Year of Firsts

Each first reopens the wound. It might be picking at the edges of the scab; just enough to satisfy the itch and prickle the nerves, or it to rip it right off entirely exposing the raw new flesh encircling the deep gaping hole in the middle.

Keep Your Scale of One to Ten: I’m a 12

I am exceptional for many reasons, but one you wouldn’t likely guess is that for a reasonably healthy 40 year old I’ve gone under the knife a bunch. Nothing cosmetic, and I have no bionic parts. Maybe that makes it more extraordinary? Hard for me to say, but statistically I’d imagine so. When I first…

For You, of whom we do not speak

The day just passed and I didn’t register it. Five years.  Recently there has been a sorrow in me I couldn’t identify. Now I understand. It’s natural I didn’t have the date in mind. We barely speak of you. Of your loss.    What is that?! Why don’t we talk about you? Because it is too…