Today’s post is an excerpt from the memoir I wrote last year, the one I used as a tool to work through both my relationship with, and the loss of my father. Which is an ongoing process, at best.
Viewing entries tagged
Dear Durbin W.A. Direbuns || Dear Basement || Dear Music I Listened To In Highschool
The magnolias are like a held breath. They bloom and hold for a few heartbeats before they exhale and drop their petals.
This year somehow it seems like Spring just keeps giving and giving and giving and I'm glad. I have had need.
t's all too fast.
I wish I could somehow slow things down (at the same time that I am greedy and impatient for what's next). No better illustration than a dinner I had last week with an old friend from far away. Over Violette liqueur and cheese we counted years and all that's filled them since we last spoke. Thirteen or so. Has it really been so long? I do not feel that old.