I’m sitting next to him on the patio of an IHOP in the rain, smiling too much and keeping my hands in my lap where he can’t reach out and grab one.
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I never knew love had the power to hurt you this much.
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When she tells me she’s proud of me, I want to pull a blanket over myself and stay there, away from her attention, away from the pride I can feel rising up in myself that tells me, Mission accomplished.
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There are weaknesses in our blood we don’t know how to hide.
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On March 4, 2015, I wrote my first blog post on this website.
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Some people like to put tacks on a map of the places they’ve seen, whether through the window of an airport or up close and personal in the heart of a town that doesn’t belong to them. But what I like to do is hunt down the tackiest souvenir shop, browse through the shot glasses and T-shirts, and walk away with a single postcard that will never make its way into a mailbox.
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Promise me that you won’t let someone love you when every night you go to bed feeling like your heart is broken.
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I don’t know if I had ever prayed before. I had said prayers; I said the prayers my mom told me to say at dinner time and before I fell asleep at night. I closed my eyes in church and held hands with the people sitting next to me when the pastor told us to bow our heads—but I almost always peeked.
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It was Jack on our breath and his eyes locked on me while I danced. We were out together with his friends for the first time, but as soon as we arrived the two of us lost ourselves in the crowd of 100 people squeezed into a suburban backyard.
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