I was not suspended in a timeless brine like my pickles. I was not a stoic javelin of cellulose waiting to strike a bored palette. My answers would not be in rigidity, in control.
I use his favorite David Attenborough shows to help me explain my climate activism
Supermarket Sweep is what gets me the closest, catapulting me back to a time when we were alive, together.
I find joy in being let into the idiosyncrasies of someone’s taste.
My father has been gone for so long now. There’s nothing for me to escape anymore. I read his book to try to believe him again.
As of January 2021, only six of the first twenty-one sweepstakes winners were able to live in their Dream Home for longer than a year.
The wall that divided us in those early weeks of my first child’s infancy became a continued separation.
My daughter understands object permanence—the idea that what vanishes continues to exist. As the planet warms, I worry I may have oversold the concept.
In the emergency room waiting for a potential diagnosis, I soothe myself with loops of pudgy toddlers tripping into the antics of babyhood over and over again.