Thursday, May 31, 2012


If I ever get one, it will be a fleur de lis on the inside of my wrist, to remind me of this night at dba + the lessons this city has taught me about love, mourning, and music.


            fleur de lis

walked in
last night
for $5
I received
a stamp

she took my wrist
turned my veins toward
the stars
and presented rubber
to my skin
leaving an imprint
of a fleur de lis
along the most visible
and fragile
feature of my
blood supply

later, that wrist would run along your scalp,
grasp onto your neck
and, ultimately,
push you away

today we kissed for the last time
and it was a sad goodbye
because, just as this city has stamped itself onto my skin
so have you

given me reason to believe
in rebirth
so have you

given me a very vulnerable sense of fragility
like those veins that could be sliced
instead of stamped

I'm scared of either possibility

and I know you'd save me
and don't intend to harm me


the most difficult part of any
grieving process
is mourning the loss
of what might have been

Dec 17 2010

Wednesday, May 30, 2012


our first instructions:
"place your right hand on your stomach
your left hand on your heart."

my friend's response, whispered:
"what do i do with my hate?"

(that was the first time we went to class together.)

tonight, alone, as we were instructed
to set our intentions
i considered
"to disconnect from her."
and then (and better)
"to disconnect from him."

and then (and best)
"to connect to myself."

it was my best yoga class to date
downward dog became almost a resting pose.

and, at the end,
i felt appropriately (re)(dis)connected.

Tuesday, May 29, 2012


"Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed." --G. K. Chesterton
We've all got monsters.
Some of them hide; some, we seek.
With love, they disperse.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

7am, Wednesday

The garbage trucks drive through my neighborhood
twice a week
very early in the morning
they always wake me up unless I wear earplugs
in which case, I can't hear my alarm.


I awoke this morning
sure I had overslept.

I'd had crazy, vivid dreams
of moving out of my college dorm
(a typical dream at this time of year)
of planning a goodbye dinner with some sorority sisters
(whom I honestly have not thought of in a decade)
of needing a haircut, under an oak tree, in the rain
of middle schoolers' secondlines across glass overpasses
of drinking from really fabulous champagne flutes
of having a non-smartphone again
of not being able to talk to this boy I really like.

Decided "I'm up. I'll blog!"

As soon as I got out of bed
I realized that a mosquito had gotten into it last night
and made a buffet
of my lower legs.


Opened my computer
And my beau had left a poem up for me:
How to Foretell a Change in the Weather

reminding me to keep writing
keep observing
keep loving.

Monday, May 14, 2012


Tonight, I had a lovely girl date: first to a fundraiser to benefit local farmers, and then, when they ran out of food and things became too crowded (which is always, always a thing at any of the tasting events in New Orleans), we picked up a bottle of wine and go cups and headed to The Fly.

The sun had already set, but the sky was still several shades of deep corals and blues. Venus appeared. We watched tugboats; my date noted they should be called towboats, because they push, not pull.

Then I started to think of currents, tides, how the Mississippi is somehow as close as my life gets to waves these days. How last May, we'd almost flooded, and we would have, if the government hadn't flooded a portion of Louisiana further (farther? I can never remember) upstream.

We talked about weddings. Specifically, how we envision our next ones. I want fewer than 100 people in a wee chapel. I want a very formal 7:30pm ceremony, with champagne, dessert, and dancing afterwards. On a Friday night, so that for the rest of the weekend, y'all can explore the destination. Because we've all been to too many destination weddings where you never get to destine or vacate.

Then we talked of evacuation plans, with the eminent hurricane season, and how it's really the worst time to be alone, not because you can't do it, but because you want someone to talk through plans with, share responsibility for, protect you.

And I listened to the "waves," reminded myself that I lived through more hurricanes growing up on the coast of North Carolina than my ex, who was raised here, and I exhaled to the universe: let it be.

Let me enjoy one of the last evenings to be outdoors until September;
let me be grateful I can push against currents, pull moonbeams across my bed, tug this load;
let me relinquish, for a bit, my need to plan out every detail;
let me relish this moment, this friendship, this love.

Sunday, May 13, 2012

the day of mother

Today is a challenging day for me. Aside from the ebbs and flows with my own mother, I fully expected to have children by the time I was 32 years old. 

When my mother was my age, I knew my multiplication tables. When my female cousins were my age, they all had at least two children.

Also, none of them have Masters degrees, and none of them have careers outside of their homes.

Conversely: I don't have to factor in the costs of a babysitter when I go out on any given Sunday. Which, as soon as I post this, I'm going to do: go out on a Sunday.


I am, by anyone's measures, a nurturer. I love to take care of people. I love to give, to share, to love.


I have always wanted children. From the time I was old enough to dream of a future, I wanted to be an English major, an author, and a mom. 

I got the English major. A decade ago.


Today is a day of mourning for many of us. We wanted more, and we expected more: from our mothers, ourselves, our wombs, our partners. 

More than anything else: we expected more time. 

since last mother's day

I have been to the funeral of one friend's mother
talked one friend through her mother's breast cancer
talked another through his mother's final months

my best friend miscarried
what was at least one child
but maybe twins
because two zygotes had been placed into her womb
and a month later, she hemorrhaged.

a colleague, my first friend here, miscarried.

two close friends
(one who lives near, and one who lives far)
have been trying to get pregnant for over a year

one (single) friend is trying to conceive via insemination

one friend delivered twins, and is now pregnant with their fourth child
one friend got pregnant on her wedding night (?)
friends I introduced, who married, got pregnant after almost a year of trying

one friend had a hysterectomy.
            she's my age.

one friend's husband got a vasectomy.

and the rest of us use birth control
whatever that looks like (pills, latex, rhythm, abstinence)
according to what works best for ourselves
our partners
our employers/health insurance companies
and our God.


Weekly, I have a prayer delivered to me. This week's is one of the best I've ever read.

Thank you for including me in your lives. Your generosity sustains me.