everything is always both
the beauty of Virgina, the grief you can feel in a crop top
when I found out my cousin was dying, I was standing in a conference room.
I abandoned a work trip early. I rented a car. I drove for 17 hours.
I drove to be with my family. to be where my heart already was.
I gasped at the beauty after every turn in the road. every crest brought me to tears. in the rental car, I asked:
is Virgina this beautiful? or is it just that the rolling hills are softening the blow of my breaking heart? is it lovely here? or do these quaint farms transport me out of my harried mind?
is it both, probably? it's always both, isn't it.
as our friend lay dying, I rushed to hold his hand.
I was rushing everywhere that day. that entire week. this whole year. rushing and believing I could never slow down. so my GPS took me the long way.
the long way put a train in front of me, which brought my rush to a halt.
which made me laugh. just like our friend did. we held hands on the couch. I finally slowed down.
every time I shared my writing, he gave me a compliment and told me how he loved it. he had his wife, too. when he had a feeling, he wanted you to know.
the last time we were together, he told me he loved my writing, and I couldn't meet his eye.
that's bullshit he said, look at me. and I did. I didn't look away until his eyes closed. the least I could do. the most I could do.
after he was gone, his wife asked me to write some words to share on their behalf. I felt his forced eye contact one more time, which made me happy. which made me sad.
everything is always both.
on the afternoon that my cousin died, my sister and I sat on the beach with shared and separate grief. for a long time, we didn’t talk. I stared off at something far away, she broke the silence
sis: what are you thinking about
me: I was thinking about what society would be like if we knew when we’d die. like, would that create castes of the people with long lives versus short lives?
sis: Jesus
me: what?!
her: I thought you were going to say what you saw in the clouds or some shit. I see a hawk and a butcher knife
me (after a long silence): I can’t believe you’re grieving in a crop top
her: I didn’t know what else to wear
