the adventure that calls to my bones is in the air i breathe; it calls from no one place but thrills my blood when I inhale, laced into my lungs is the quickened footstep of one out to find it, I am all caught breath and discovery waiting to turn the final corner.
Tag: unfinished writing
on dad and dying
Mortatality only began to haunt me in a way I could see when I was older, when I had someone to care about and I loved my mother again. Until I was 23, I was at best unaware of the desperate war I’d waged against it: I expected my mom to follow my dad into… Continue reading on dad and dying
