right now I'm eating chocolate ice cream. And wearing my mother's winter coat, which has been mine for a few years now. She's not here to hug me, but the coat is warm. Taylor Swift is singing "Ours" which is thankfully on the Target "exclusive content" version of "Speak Now."
Life makes love look hard
the stakes are high
the water's rough
but this love is ours.
I got word from the secret midwestern school. There were maybe 25 words in the email, but the only one I saw was no. My heart is broken, a little bit, actually, a lot. I knew it was a long shot, but I thought it was a long shot that I was going to get into the basket, the three pointer from the penalty line. (Is that even basketball speak?)
I am at work, trying to just get through this cart of books. I've heard from my parents, but not from Sally or the boy. And I need to hear from them. But it can't be about my drama. It must NOT be about my drama. They will soothe me soon enough, just as I have soothed them, just as I will soothe them again.
One of my favorite writers, Mitali Perkins, calls depression "The Jailer." Yes. I'm in a physical mental jail right now. My arms feel like lead even as my fingers dance across the keys to type this sentence.
If this was a movie
you'd here by now.
HA! Yes. But life is not a movie. So I will go back to checking catalog records and Dewey Decimal numbers and then I will drive home, numb.
**the title refers to what you do when the Dementors come. You eat chocolate.
21 hours ago