I never read the rules for mothering it seems I was absent that day perhaps all of us were. Carrying around the textbook burden of guilt, the weight of which mocks our shortcomings and reveals the all-too constant truth that we’re just winging it. Each new day, another brave face– scooping up the pieces …
a simple narrative unwilling to wind its way from my head to hand as i ruminate over the lifetime in days counted across this brief span of time in which my mind was willing to release held constructs– massive monuments to memory carefully created and tended through years, in quiet rooms hidden in attics and …
the edges of myself 