When tragedy strikes we become sleuths. We reconstruct events to establish the belief that it should have been us, it could have been us, it was our fault or we caused their death somehow. The days pass into weeks, the weeks years until the memory fades and details dim.
Found Poem in Christmas LetterFrom a Former Blond Bombshell
Our abilities shrink daily.Dave is on his walker.I am on oxygen.We are often cranky.
Goldenrod
I saw my...
Verbal Escalation
Slowly, but surely I've been establishingresidency in your bedroom. I took out thatvacancy sign months ago. The services I'vereceived here are some of...
