Our Love Is Our Burden.

I Wrote Before I Could Write. I Got My Hands On A Journal, Maybe A Hand-me-down; I Had Three Older Siblings. My First Entries Are In The Handwriting Of The Sister Closets In Age (5 Years My Senior). She Must Have Gotten Tired Of My Dictations Because She Gave Up And Then My Blocky Scrawl Shows Up. I Wrote Plays As A Kid Mostly.

Love Is A Luxury. It's Something That People Are Allowed To Indulge In When They're Not Simply Trying To Survive And Keep Other People Alive.

Our Stories Are What We Have,” Our Good Mother Says. “our Stories Preserve Us. We Give Them To One Another. Our Stories Have Value. Do You Understand?

Sometimes When Reading Aloud To My Husband, I'll Start Crying. It Completely Stuns Me. As If The Words In My Body And On The Page - In Relation To Each Other - Are Cocooned Against My Own Feelings About What I'm Writing Until They're Loosed In The Air And Become Their Own. Then I Realize What I May Or May Not Have Done.

But There It Is: Everyone Is Alone, For Life, And Maybe That's Not Such A Bad Thing.