hell is Nat?
“Maybe these things take a while to develop. Maybe people change. Maybe vulnerability grows.” So I waited, even though I knew – or at least, the loud lady living in the corner of my brain knew – that people don’t change on a dime like that, unless they are characters in Hollywood movies.
And then, Ruble died.
I have, to my surprise and horror, met someone I like.
It’s not serious. I can’t do serious yet. I am still too traumatized by serious. Even leaving a bottle of contact lens solution at his house feels transgressive. He gave me a toothbrush because I forgot mine, and I had to stop myself from throwing it out afterwards to delete the evidence.
He loves to travel.
He doesn’t want kids. At all. Ever.
“I’m going out of my mind,” I whisper to my friend Susan.
“Me, too,” she whispers back. “But don’t forget: it’s Day 2.”
In my old life – the one with husband, home and supposed stability - I had an afternoon ritual. Our house didn’t get much light, but for about an hour in the afternoon, a sunbeam lit up one spot in our bedroom. If I was feeling down, overwhelmed or tired, and...
It's 5:30 a.m. and I'm climbing out of a van in the middle of a large field in central Turkey. It's still dark, but I can see the silhouettes of half-filled hot air balloons scattered about on their sides. We watch a man inject the closest one with air, and then warm...