Tag: travel

With Boundaries

I am used to the occasional innocuous question, such as “How many children do you have?” I start. Stumble. Never answer the question the way I would like.

The Ocean

Grief is like the rain.  Soft.  Hard.  Warm.  Cold.  Sometimes torrential and unrelenting.  Sometimes so furious that we cannot see through the downpour.

What I Would Be Doing

Now I look at it, and remember that trip. I see all of the photos of our smiling faces and I am juxtaposed with happiness, and now pain as I look at my figure, knowing I was pregnant. I can never erase that aspect from the pictures.