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Delicate

Posted on July 12, 2010

I write so often about the fleetingness of time, of the preciousness of every little thing. This morning I realize that so much of it was just words. You just can’t really know until death whispers at your door. For me it wasn’t until… They shielded my babies. The clots filled my hands. The blood flowed over my lap. I couldn’t move as fast as their faces showed I should. My friend said in a faraway place, “You are still bleeding.” I didn’t get it until the blood wouldn’t just wash away as I expected, instead it plumed around me in the water. The color as dark as the shadow Sean cast over me as he said we had to get to the hospital.…

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Misfit

Posted on July 1, 2010

I remember as a little girl (it started in fifth grade), I just wanted to fit in. I wanted to have the right clothes, ride the cool bike, say the right things, of course I never did. I was different. I didn’t love dolphins, didn’t like dresses and when it came time to play outside, I didn’t really want to play on the swings, I wanted to pretend to be a Russian orphan on the lam (preferably on roller skates.) I played alone. A lot. As I got older I wasn’t ready to do things when other people were. I didn’t have boyfriends in 3rd, 4th, 7th, or 9th grade. I kept my t-shirts untucked and my shoulders a bit hunched, uncomfortable with the parts…

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