Saturday March 4, 2017
from a poem by Rupi Kaur
I don’t know what to say. I wish I had more ideas. Some days the well is dry. Some days the well is thirsty. I wish I read more. I wish I knew different words. I wish I wasn’t only ever using certain letters.
I haven’t thought about my mom dying in a while. A whole week went by recently and I didn’t think of her at all. Except that I had to call her. Or that she had left me a voicemail and then I wondered if something bad Happened. I wondered if she was calling to break the bad news to me