Give her a seat at the table.

There’s one seat at our table that stays vacant. You can’t sit with us. She stands on the outskirts of the room, awkward with a terrible sense of fashion and frizzy hair, and I cringe. I don’t just pretend she isn’t there; I pretend she never existed. I’ve never had a good relationship with her,…

Welcome to year 2.

I don’t know what it looked like when my expression shifted, when I rounded the stairs and saw him sitting on the couches. But I felt it in my body, like weights had been released. And as the weights fell, I did too. I collapsed into his arms, crying, uncontrollably, unashamedly. He let me cry. In…

Eyes wide open.

He likes his mornings slow and easy — coffee and a newspaper. He likes waking up with the sun. “I like waking up when things are still quiet and everything is peaceful,” he said. “Most of the world is still asleep. I want to wake up eager for the day and eager for what’s about to happen, and…

Room 401.

    I guess I just woke up one day and realized I didn’t need it anymore. I found other ways to channel how I felt. I talk to people. Professionals. Friends. Family. I’m being honest and open in a physical-not-digital world sort of way. And I still write my words. Just more condensed. Sometimes even more…

When the small voices have big megaphones.

I pull into the parking lot. You should have stayed at home. Get out of my car. Lock it. Throw the keys in my bag. Your hair looks frizzy tonight. You should’ve straightened it. I make my way to the doors. You didn’t catch the obvious dress code that everyone’s wearing a dress and you’re wearing…

Tabletop talks.

Her tears made a puddle on the clean white tabletop, and she dried them away with her sleeve. She asked if her mascara had smudged. I told her it had not. She’d never been an ugly crier. And she went silent, that silence that is hopefully, desperately, expecting the listener to extend advice, a hand, a…

The sun will come out tomorrow.

  Right now she’s weaving in and out of unfamiliar faces, dragging a suitcase behind her. Waiting for her flight to be called. Waiting to land in the uncertainty of the weekend. She’s trying to be brave, but the lukewarm coffee sloshes in her paper cup, reminding her how utterly alone she feels. She thought this time would work….