And so, in August, I had a coffee-meets-laptop mishap. I wrote in real notebooks flipped upside down. Real notes in green ink. Frank the Laptop went into the shop, where my husband promised the laptop gods didn’t laugh at me. I had words to write, so Truman the Giant Eff-off Desktop was set up on my kitchen table. Since we’ve not so recently moved, there is no longer a wall between my kitchen and my living room, and since we’re…
Well, my husband. Hi. I’ve had to spend some time this month writing about the physical side of my disability. I usually don’t focus on what I can’t do, and I usually don’t care. But I feel like I’ve been justifying my life and the help I need and now I’m actually exhausted. Maybe that’s because I wake up and feel I haven’t slept. Maybe that’s because I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. No, literally. There was my…
A few years before I met my husband, I wrote A LIST. On it, I noted all of the things I was looking for in a partner, namely my forever partner. I folded up the three pages, put them at the back of my journal. Planned to offer the list to the Moon, and see what happened. Real talk, I ended up offering the list to my washing machine first, transferred from my journal to a sweater with pockets. The…
And so, I’d been watching Isla sleep. In a non-creepy way. When Neil’s away, we have a GIANT SLEEPOVER and she crashes out sideways on my bed. On the days I wake up without her elbow in my stomach or her toe up my nose, I have the benefit of seeing her open her eyes. On Neil’s side of the bed. Isla opens her eyes on Friday morning, ‘Happy Daddy Day,’ she says. I’d texted Neil the night before. Even…
