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I’m not sure if this place can help me
“I need you to know I’m not fragile,” my husband said as I pulled out of the parking lot. I knew exactly what he was referring to. My husband had been very sick lately. He had to go to a facility over 500 miles away for a month. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and took a deep breath. Not fragile. Not… fragile… Strange. Life seemed quite fragile lately. When you love someone with a mental illness, it’s hard not to walk on eggshells. I remember when my husband was first diagnosed. All I could do was nod. Finally, a name to the third entity…
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Florida Summer Shower
“I found a massive dead rat in the shed,” my husband said by way of greeting. Jesse stood in the doorway leading to our backyard, his black hair wet with humidity and sweat. “That’s disgusting.” I crinkled my nose. “Come look at it.” He gestured behind him. “Absolutely not!” “Please!” “No!” I stood up from my work at the table and walked to the kitchen. “Remember when you worked at the Mill and you sent me a text of that mouse caught in the trap! I’m scarred for life!” “Yeah.” Jesse laughed. “That was before trigger warnings. Well, come help me anyway. It’s about to rain.” “No it isn’t.” Jesse…
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Poem: You’ll ask yourself how you got through it.
“We are broke.” “So broke.” “We can’t afford this apartment.” “It’s the best we can do.” You’ll ask yourself how you got through it. “We are still broke.” “So broke.” “Who knew getting pregnant could be THAT easy?” “I feel like multiple people tried to tell us.” “What are we going to do?” “I don’t know.” You’ll ask yourself how you got through it. “What if I wanted to be a doctor? Major in Biology?” “I think you could be a doctor.” “But we’re broke.” “So broke. We can put your first class on the credit card.” “Isn’t that like 29% APR?!” You’ll ask yourself how you got through it.…
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Turn Off The Damn Light
“Turn off the damn light!” said Jesse, squinting his eyes to glare at me through the dim glow of my bedside lamp. “No,” I said, looking over my glasses to squint back. “I’m tired. I can’t sleep with that light on!” “This is the only quiet chance I get to read in peace.” Jesse turned over muttering, “Every night it’s the same. Apparently reading is more important than my sleep.” “Reading is more important than everything,” I muttered back. Jesse reached behind him to grab his phone. “What time do we need to wake up tomorrow?” “The storm isn’t supposed to hit ’till one o’clock. I guess we’ll just get…
