journal 1

at my parents' house, i sleep in my brother's old room. he never slept in this bed though. i wake up aching each day.

the room is very dim. it's lit by a ship lamp on the white dresser. the shade is too dark. last week, i put on a sweater inside-out.

this morning i went, wet-headed, to breakfast with my dad and his friend from high school, tommy. tommy has owned a greenhouse for years. dad goes there every friday and brings home a rose for mom.

i slid in the booth behind my dad.

i always forget, until i'm there, how uncomfortable i am when i sit directly across from another person. luckily, tommy doesn't look me in the eye very often. once, to ask, "so. how are you down in nashville? who's the boyfriend?" when i tell him "i don't have one" he looks me in the eye again to ask about the job and the finances. "are you out of the red yet?" he's staring at me now, and i keep aligning my fork and knife on the napkin. i look up, then realize i've made the fork lower than the knife. "almost," i nearly whisper as i tend to my utensils. he says, "i'm just trying to make sure you're changing."

i never knew i wasn't good enough the way i was. he probably meant "moving forward."

he had a wreck last week. he talked about sleeping on five pillows and waking up with sharp pains.

he talked about his diabetes and his depression.

about the funeral homes.

death and disease.

i was starting to choke. just in time, i remembered that i could think about something else while he talked. i diluted his drone and lisp with thoughts of yesterday's amazing cup of coffee, the fact that duke probably won't call me back, and how soft my sweater is.

it's the same one i had on yesterday. i look at my shoulder to start fully admiring myself and realize i've got it on inside-out again.
for a moment, i consider leaving it. my hair covers the tag in the back. no one will even know.

"...and my leg is itchy and pink. i scratched it until it bled."

i escape to the restroom, where i change my sweater around without going into a stall. i wash my hands. i think, "I can do this."

back at the table, it's eggs over easy. toast. bacon. hash browns. strawberry jam.

my taste in jam comes under brief scrutiny, but it passes. i just don't like orange marmalade.

|

gotham

the snow has an icy mask
but it's melting back

the greens
are starting to show.

forty-one degrees
never felt so warm.

yesterday the sun came
today it did not.

today was drizzle and
chill
and
cranky
parking lot drivers

i left the house
i drove dad's minivan
i drove it to the bookstore
i choked on hellos
and eyestares
i drove another twenty minutes
i ordered the house blend
i did not make small talk
i used pencil
i wrote numbers
i used eraser
i erased numbers
(sip. sip. sip.)
i pretended not to eavesdrop
(a girl and her brother)
i furrowed my brow
he fumbled
he grabbed her hand
he said i don't want to get on that plane
he said i love you
she said stay out of trouble
he left
she looked at her boyfriend then
she sat down
he said you give me hope
i tapped my temple with a pencil
i tried not to cry
(sip. sip.)
he left for work
she went outside
she left her drink
she came back
i scratched pencil on paper
i checked my phone
i put my coat on
i almost said goodbye
i looked at him
(in the hat, by the door.)
he looked at me
i lifted the latch
i closed the door behind me
(sip.)
i jammed my right hand into my jeans pocket
i walked back
i drove back
i unlocked the door
i came home

tomorrow, another chance
the sun could shine
or the moments could whip
past

i could want to stay
i could wish to go
i could wonder about

i could

go to breakfast with dad
go visit grandma
crochet my pink scarf
cheat at more sudoku

and enjoy the chill
since
it never lasts

|

two weeks, down

well, i've been in ny for two weeks. this morning, i finally fell. i've been mincing my steps across sheets of ice for two weeks, and this morning i twisted my ankle on a dry sidewalk and just went down. boom. i imagine it was pretty entertaining to watch, but i'm quite sore now.

other thoughts on being here:

i don't get to see sunsets like this in nashville. the mountains stretch out along the horizon and the sky melts to pink. in the foreground could be the highway or a pasture with dairy cows, but those mountains are always out there, laying down under the sunset.



i like my siblings. they can be obnoxious and selfish and rude, but they can also be charming and loving and witty and intelligent and giving. as much as I've hoped to the contrary, i see so much of me in them.

i really do love dunkin' donuts.

i miss living in new york.

|

Well, here I am.

I'm sort of settled in at Mom and Dad's in New York. No, not the city. I haven't really unpacked yet, but I've also been in my pajamas for two days. Wonderful.

Yesterday I drove back roads and went to small towns and picked up Mom from work and listened to the classic rock station and watched it snow and got a haircut.

Today I turned the heat up to 67 and did some work and made no bake cookies with my sister and listened to The Killers and Better Than Ezra all day.

Perfect.

|

in my perfect world

people don't lie.

There are few things I hate worse than lying.

Call it what you want.

Deception, misrepresentation, false pretenses.

I'd rather be looked in the eye and told the truth, as ugly as it might be.

|