I am sitting outside my house waiting for my ex, to drop off the kids. I am waiting for her and her red van. When we were together she wanted to drive a red van. She said it was her dream. She had found a 15 passenger red van at a nearby dealership and begged […]

The creaking of the swing set outside my window is just another reminder of what I don’t have. My own house is quiet. Outside, amidst the creaking swing set I hear laughter. My house is still recovering from the latest siege, my mother screaming and pulling my hair in her attempt to subdue me. From

Imagine you want to open a restaurant. You are certain of its success. Then the first customer enters and oooops you forgot about the food. Then you run out and buy food but yikes, you forgot to hire a cook. Then you hire a cook but uh-oh you have no money to pay them. Welcome

I found the photo on the floor of her room. It is the last place she lived. She is smiling in the picture but her eyes say something else, something like, I hate having my picture taken. Her lips are closed to hide her missing teeth. I slide the picture into my back pocket. We

I click. Burger King is looking for Managers to run their restaurants. I think it’s kind of cool that they call themselves a restaurant. I guess it’s like calling me a Marketing Consultant while I’m unemployed. I click. My friends at Career Builder are hard at work trying to find me a job. They reassure

We Danced. The bride spotted me, dancing hand in hand in a large circle around her. The circle was so large that we were more walking then dancing. Still, the music played and the pull of the crowd, of the women, carried me around the dance floor. The bride broke through the crowd of woman

Our house was a mess. It had been a mess for some time but was deteriorating to a deeper level of mess, disgusting mess. In fact, we were probably living at the level of disgusting mess for some time when it occurred to us that we needed help. With the pending birth of our new

The bride was a stranger to me. I read the wedding invitation, well the parts that were in English at least. The groom, his parents and grandparents also strangers to me were named in the invitation. The small response card slipped out of the envelope and landed on the floor. I scooped it up in

As I awoke from my deep sleep the end of our group therapy session, the group leader screamed in my ear. “Tammy is you ok?” Before I had a chance to respond, she lifted me by the elbow and escorted me back to my room. “Is there a nurse? We need a nurse.” I heard