After 32 years of marriage I’m pretty skeptical of monogamy, but maybe that’s because I tried it and it didn’t work.
Eight years after my husband died, every man I saw had a checkbox beside his face. Would I or wouldn’t I? Under the right circumstances, I might.
I’ve been reflecting on where I was a year ago, Before The Pandemic (BTP), what has changed and what has not.
Maybe it was the caffeine, but my inner prism caught the sun, a rainbow arched through my chest, and my heart tap danced. I’m doing okay, I thought.
I shaved my legs this morning. A blind leap of faith is what it was. I truly believe I’m going out again someday, so I’m practicing my social skills.
Billie Best reads 57, a poem she wrote for herself on her 57th birthday.
I’m stuck in a surreal bending of time. My calendar is empty for the rest of my life, or at least until this situation sorts itself out, which I now realize could be many months. I shudder and focus on the things I can control, like setting the microwave for Continue Reading