It's 11:30PM and I'm driving along I-45 north, coming out of Houston, Texas proper. It's been a long time since I've made a trip down to where I grew up, to the Heights specifically where I lived for a beat in my mid-twenties. I lived in a garage that had been turned into an upstairs... Continue Reading →
Grief, anger, sadness, anxiety, and guilt. I suspect many of us are feeling [some combination of] these [or similar] feelings [again], but the last one is something I wanted to take a moment to highlight: guilt. Right now, I feel guilty for taking care of myself and my feelings when tragedies like Uvalde happened just... Continue Reading →
I cannot wrap my head around the coincidence that I'm sitting in the exact same waiting room to see the exact same doctor as I did in this blog from last fall: https://adonkumentary.com/2021/12/02/cant-wait/ Another mass shooting happened (as I'm editing this before posting, two more happened that have made headlines). The coincidence that like the... Continue Reading →
It’s nine in the morning; I’ve been awake for several hours, moving through my daily routine which I’ve talked about before—the one with stretches, coffee, sitting with the cat and the dog, watching the window—but now, the sun’s fully up and bundled up like it’s January, I head out into the garden that I guess... Continue Reading →
“An Exhale” is one of my favorite stories I’ve ever written (so I’ve reblogged it a few times now). I go back and read it often, remembering the gravel road, the tinkle of the dog’s collar, and the rush of relief and grief that hit me all at once. I remember Little Foot’s little voice and the feeling of his small hand in mine.
Today and to me, this story still holds up (which I’m not sure is a good or bad thing). There have been too many senseless last exhales for so many who didn’t deserve it. It’s painful and overwhelming to think about.
If you need it, when I’m feeling crushed by…well…*gestures broadly at everything*, and I actually remember to do it, I place one hand over my heart and one on my belly. I pull in a breath as deep as it will go, hold it for 3…2…1…and then exhale slowly and thoughtfully. It helps for a second at least. Maybe it will help you, too.
I love you,
Three years ago, I posted an essay called, “An Exhale.” That story went on to be published in two nonfiction anthologies which can be found here and here —publications for which I’m not only proud, but grateful to have had the opportunity to share with others the potential catastrophe that hurricanes can bring: not just environmentally but emotionally and mentally as well.
Fast forward to today and I’m spending my morning dragging things inside, tieing others down, and cutting down heavy branches that look like they might be vulnerable in the hurricane-force winds that are headed this way from Laura. Although when I think of it, isn’t everything vulnerable in hurricane-force winds? Isn’t everything and everyone vulnerable all the time? I read once somewhere that you’ll walk past, on average, 16 murderers in your lifetime.
I also think that in the state of the world, we haven’t had…
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