Trigger Warning: this article contains descriptions of sexual assault that may not be suitable for all readers. Fearless community, please read with care.
“Why is there a condom on the ground?” I asked, eyes swollen, my first hangover pounding.
“Because we fucked,” Danny matter-of-factly replied, with a smirk.
“Mommy, can we go to the beach?”
It wasn’t an unusual request, as we live in a beach town. But as the words left my son’s mouth, my body stiffened with hesitancy.
Ugh, it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I looked at his innocent face, his excited…
Oh yeah. That’s right. You can reread that title up there. Yes sir. As the Greatest Showman once proclaimed, “It starts tonight!”
December sucks. There I said it.
I mean, I like it. The magic that I create. The food that I cook. The family time that I coordinate. The gifts that I buy, wrap, hide, and return.
December was WAY more fun as a kid.
Because damn, there’s a lot of…
I started my own publication yesterday. On a whim. Just like that. Snap. Ping. Poof.
It was actually pretty fun. I’ve read all the articles about why you should start your own publication. And why you shouldn’t. But why you should. Shouldn’t. Should.
If that last paragraph made sense to…
They say all great ideas are jotted down on cocktail napkins. Or on crumpled-up pieces of scrap paper plucked out of the trash.
J.K Rowling apparently wrote an idea on an airplane barf bag. Was it empty? That’s not the point.
One idea. Just that one idea. If not recorded…
It was just a choice. It was my right. It was legal and safe. Women do it every day. Easy peasy.
Yet, it landed me in the darkest, most unexpected, despair I’ve ever known.
I had never really thought about whether I considered myself pro-life or pro-choice. I didn’t judge…
Prospective Employer: Hi Emme. Thank you for coming. (Extends hand).
Me: (steps back, skeptical) Wait, is this a greeting or a hook-up?*
Prospective Employer: Well, uh (takes hand away) umm, it was a greeting. (checks iPhone for no reason) Anyway, please take a seat (gestures toward chair). …
I was grateful for the mask today when I bumped into you.
“It’s been a while, Beckett. How have you been?” you asked.
Knowing instantly, intimately, who the voice belonged to, I twisted my head in your direction.
Those eyes told me you were smiling. So was I.
Driving my minivan down the highway, I overheard my ten-year-old son and his two teammates nervously chatting about the upcoming game.
I remained quiet. I always do. Driving carpool delivers invaluable parental insight.
“They’re going to kill us!” …