How do I teach? How do I teach my third graders that they’ll change the world, they’ll make it a better place, when inside I wonder if all that will … Continue reading How do I teach?
Tag: pain is heavy
The devil you know.
One of the figures of speech I frequently keep in mind is that the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. It means that sometimes, a … Continue reading The devil you know.
I’ll be here.
There’s a certain idea about arguments, and taking breaks from people. I even read a version of it in a meme just this morning. Let’s see if I can do … Continue reading I’ll be here.
Orphan vibes.
“Do I give off orphan vibes?” I asked my therapist today. They weren’t really the right words to try to explain my quandary, but it got me close enough to … Continue reading Orphan vibes.
Things I won’t apologize for on Yom Kippur.
Okay, some of the items on the above list might seem a bit silly, and it’s okay to chuckle at them. Here’s the point, though. Yom Kippur is a time … Continue reading Things I won’t apologize for on Yom Kippur.
Taking stock, and I’m missing a limb.
I had a brother, once. I now live happily with my husband and daughter and speak to no immediate family members of my own at all, in order to keep … Continue reading Taking stock, and I’m missing a limb.
House of Cards.
Strong foundations, sturdy walls;I thought I lived in a house of stone.Storms came and knocked it downAnd now I sit here, all alone.Huddled against the cold and wind,My shelter tumbled … Continue reading House of Cards.
The breath I left behind.
The air felt different all day today. Or maybe it’s just that I couldn’t ever manage to quite draw a proper breath. I just never can, not on this day, … Continue reading The breath I left behind.
Cherophobia.
Cherophobia is the fear of happiness. We hear jokes in movies and on television all the time about how a relationship went sour because one or both parties were miserable … Continue reading Cherophobia.
Short.
You gotta hand it to short people. Because usually they can’t reach it themselves, even with the step stool. I kid, I kid! …Not really though. My father was six … Continue reading Short.
Journeys in the Dark 