December 30, 2011

friendly ghosts

Work is just that, isn't it, and taking more out of me than I ever knew it could. My words are scarce, even inside my own head, all echoes and whispers and fragments of things that almost are and then are not. What words I do have are saved for them, for my dearest, my friendly ghosts.

December 24, 2011

bits and pieces

There is nothing left, nothing
but a box and
another, smaller box

bits and pieces
ribbons, lace
cards and letters

the teeniest, tiniest

brown monkey shoes
stripey shirts
a hat
a blanket
a book
a dress

all that is left
of the two of you, and
who I hoped
you'd be.

December 15, 2011

the very last day

I am sitting in a living room. I am living. I am loved. And tomorrow we will have Christmas. (Christmas!) It doesn't matter the day. It will be Christmas here, tomorrow. It will be twinkly lights and yummy dinner and nutella and chocolate and torn paper and peppermints and squeals and pajamas and blankets and gingerbread and smiles. It will be presents made and bought and wrapped in secret and taped up tight with names all scrawled across the front in black sharpie. It will be hugs and squeezes and not letting go not even for a second because this is the last day, the very last day. The last day together. Our Christmas.

December 6, 2011


My posts are often short. I cannot go on at length, for what is left to say? I cannot tell you of their darlingness, their splendidness. Their precious, precious hearts. I cannot tell you.

I cannot tell.

December 2, 2011

exist, cease, persist

This short article by Brian Greene was really interesting to me.

I think about death and dying a lot. That sounds morbid I guess, but I don't think I'm morbid. I have encountered something that changed me profoundly; I consider it often because I need to understand it as best I can, or risk running mad, shattered by my lack of... well. Shattered by my lack.

People rarely seem to want to talk about it, which makes me appreciate candid opinions and theories like this one all the more. It's only a way of thinking, of course; but what else do we have?