i. Dear Doctor— Each morning I unlatch the window to shout the miser magpies from their perch, the sill dips a bit in the clutch of my palm and I…
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My boyfriend bought the bunnies for me on Easter day of my sophomore year in college. It was the sort of ludicrous, stupid, expensive thing he was always doing for…
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I recently shared an illustration on Facebook from the comic strip Verbal Vomit by the brilliant Hannah Hillam. In the drawing, there are two images—one marked: “Ten Years Ago”…
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I remember when my mother called for me from outside. I was seven years old. I remember her voice had a high pitched strain that I had only recently begun…
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In the first day of the New Year, a rare chill took hold of the desert, shivering cacti sucked into themselves, gunmetal sky swollen with rain. I spent the day horizontal,…
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The written word has a way of reintroducing me to myself – of locating me in my hiding spot, of throwing back the covers. Does it do the same for…