We stayed in Menemsha, the port of the island, we grabbed bags full of shrimp and steamers off the boat, we ate them in the kitchen. The…… Read more “The First Thing You Should Know.”
But I am already forced to let it go.
The world tells me to let it go.
There is nothing you can do.
But it is not you, oh no, my love,
it is not you.
Everyone here stopped growing up
and starting getting old. They came back
from the war and everything changed.
They’d been taking their time. There wasn’t any need to hurry. They moved slowly, because the days moved slowly, and the air stood still around them.
He was handsome–empirically handsome, movie-star handsome, with a chiseled jaw, sandy hair, piercing and icy blue eyes. He was tall. He was secretive. I thought he hated my guts.
This is what I do: Cook. Bake. Write music. Sing songs. Work part-time as a paralegal. My life is not remotely like I’d thought it would be; I’m doing it backwards, it seems. Nobody’s life really goes the way they expect it to, but mine has gone off course too many times to count, so many times and often so violently that nothing resembles anything, and all the parts have been replaced, most at least twice, an existential Ship of Theseus.