The Edited Memory
Scrolling through high school reunion photos, everyone commented “best years of our lives!” Then I opened my old diary and discovered how brutally my memory had edited the truth.
Scrolling through high school reunion photos, everyone commented “best years of our lives!” Then I opened my old diary and discovered how brutally my memory had edited the truth.
I've been avoiding the conversation with Happy for three months now. The five-year plan. Where we're going. What we want....
I destroy things when they get comfortable. Intense, then distant. With her. With work. With Arash. That cycle. But maybe...
I have been singing "hold me closer, Tony Danza" for two decades. I had never heard of Tony Danza. The...
I woke Happy. Told her to go to bed. I'll stay through the night. Every time his breath paused, mine...
How do you explain homesickness for a place that doesn't exist? "Like I'm missing somewhere. But I don't know where."...
"We learned in school that we're made from stars. Is that true?" he asked. Yes, I said. My son looked...
For thirty-something years, I've been treating mystery like a problem that needs solving. Every big question—about God, about life, about...
Happy was reorganizing the bookshelf again. I watched from the doorway as she pulled every book out, sorted them by...