You see said baby and think to yourself, “Yeah, I could do this. Look at these little feet. And toes. And oh my god – did she just poop herself?”
He looked at me like I was something to waste; something to toss aside, something to destroy.
Don’t constantly be moving on to the next thing.
For just tonight, I want us to be free – care less about what will be, and who we’ll become because those days of carefree nights and lives lived from worry will be in front us, smacking us with their cold and bitter reality.
Just like sex sells, so do tabloids and sadly, the written word is becoming less “written” and more clickbait.
Growing up, I had the image that by now, at twenty-seven years old, I’d be a successful writer living in New York City with a cute house, a handsome mate, and a life I wasn’t struggling to adapt to.
I chose to ignore what I wasn’t ready to accept: my mother was dying.
I have to convince myself, disclosed from reality that I can’t really share the bits and pieces of my day with her – at least not in the way that I crave to.
Cancer was too hard for me to think about – yet – the irony is that right now, at this current moment in my life, four months after burying my mom, cancer….it’s all I can focus on.
I wanted her to be around for my first dance, and to see how our bridal party did their obnoxious entrances, and I wanted her to kiss me goodbye and wish me the best time as my husband and I packed our bags for our honeymoon.