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Worlds Collide

I didn’t think it was going to happen. First the weird separation with Matt, and then Covid coming along and ruining any semblance of normal. Financially speaking, we’re in rough waters, although I wouldn’t say shipwrecked. Just pinched as one can get in troubled and interesting times. So at first the cabin wasn’t even open, and then we weren’t sure we could pull it off. So when we decided to go for it, that was when things started to sink in for me. We are going to the cabin.  THE cabin. The one place in my whole life that changes but never changes so much that it can’t be instantly recognized. My childhood home away from home. My mother spent her infancy here, and my grandmother. My great grandmother was pregnant with my grandmother when my great grandfather built it, walking along the main road for several miles as he told her ‘it’s just over the next hill because he didn’t want to tell her they had to hoof it around 10 miles from the bus stop to the cabin door. She was unamused and
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The Dark Hours

It’s ten in the evening, and well dark outside. It’s been cold, and the sun sets early, and I’ve been off school for Christmas break. I’m barely 16. My mother has a police scanner that she likes to constantly keep on, to track what happens in our small town. Mostly its to listen to my father, a volunteer firefighter, when he’s out on calls. The rest of the time it just scans endlessly in the background, becoming white noise as dispatch clears mundane traffic stops. Tonight is different. Tonight is one of the Big Ones. They page out all local departments, every kind of first responder in the area. We turn off the television and turn up the scanner. It’s a terrible car accident just two roads over, on a curve I drive every morning to go to school. An accident. A bad one. A Big One. It was a boy I went to school with, speeding. He wrapped his car around a tree. He survived, but he was ever the same after that. He would be one of the only ones. *** I’m 18 now, and scurrying in th
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New Year

Goodbye 2019. I wish I could say it’s been fun, but you were a year of change, of catalysts, of pain and of balance stolen. We almost had it all. The first half of the year feels like a terrible mix of effort and failure. The second half felt like a nightmare. Why can’t I wake up and find myself again? Why is the reflection in the mirror so unfamiliar? I look at her, dark circles at the corners of her eyes, hair longer than I’ve seen in decades. A paleness that hadn’t been there before. More fine lines, signs of aging. She looks haunted, with a deep sadness in her eyes where light used to be. She looks tired. Who is this? There’s no way that’s me. Me who began the year with so much hope, so much ambition. So much joy. The polycule had issues, but we were strong. So strong. Now broken, now empty and a shadow of what once was hovers over us all like a dark cloud. It never stops raining, the sun doesn’t shine on the corners of my heart any longer. I am tired. And what of those who
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Time

 it moves differently in crisis. Soft in the middle with sharp edges. Tasting like copper. Time is a friend and a hated enemy. All those memories, piled on in time, reminding you of what's lost. What could be gained again. Of what could or could not be.
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Empty

Cold. Numb. Disconnected. Voided.
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Chaos is a good planting soil

It's tense, the warmth here drained out slowly but surely as conflict does to joy. There are no more warm greetings in the mornings. No more casual interactions. She glowers and barely musters a response to any words said to her. I stay mute behind a neutral mask and am haunted by the taste of blood. One wrong move, one wrong word, and my mind tells me the taste will be real. "Say nothing, do nothing, become nothing. Nothing cannot be hit. Cannot be harmed. Cannot even be struck at." It's been a long time since I've had to rely on these mechanisms to keep harm to a minimum. Keep a face like a mask that can only be interpreted by its viewer, but never let it appear anything but neutral. Eyes down. Breathe quietly. Step silently. Do not ask anything unless it is critical. Do not speak, you will say the wrong thing. If you leave, you are weak. If you stay you are holding a shield that withers by the day. By the hour. Under  the constant assault. Of a man who'
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Ostara

I’m shaking, and inside there are so many voices screaming. So many memories playing out across my eyes so that I can’t even look up. I can’t bear to see his face change from neutral to angry... *** It’s been another whirlwind weekend, another holiday, another house full. The week leading up to it has not been the easiest. To be blunt, emotionally, I have been a fucking wreck. My stability has been compromised, I’m unsure of where I stand and what’s to come. Work is hellishly roller-coastered with highs and lows, shocks and pain. He’s been away with his wife to her family, and I am keenly aware of how important this is to him. She will be accessible to him in a way she usually is not. This is a time for them, for their family, and to steal moments as they can. Even saying hello in the morning feels a little guilty. That’s not my place and this was not my time, and I want to be more than supportive during a rather tumultuous time. I wanted to go above and beyond, even as I was str
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