Ten years ago I had long hair.
And an apartment in Santa Cruz.
My first book, a short story collection, was being published
I hadn’t hit 30 yet.
I had a cat named Missy May
And a best friend named Mark.
My hair is short -very short-
I live in Fresno with my husband and daughter.
My first book, a short story collection, is still my only literary child.
40 is getting uncomfortably close
I have a cat named Minka
And last week Mark took his life.
I’m still reeling. I’m still hurt. I’m still trying to breathe and move my body through my day.
September has always been a month of hope… the month of a new relationship that just celebrated 12 years. The month of a new baby who is now 7. The month of a new home. The month of possibilities and new school years and goals for things to accomplish.
And now… now it is all that and also bitter tears and feelings of misplaced guilt and conversations left unspoken.
I’m so glad it’s October. The month where I think about what I need to do before my December birthday, the holidays, and the end of the year. This month I will start to heal from this latest wound and I will rededicate myself to writing and leaving the world better than how I found it.
And I will not leave the conversations undone.
In ten years, I’ll still miss him.
But I will have written again.
And my daughter will be older.
And my hair … well… who knows.
Time will tell.