Alyson Kate Long
I'm a copywriter by day; a Kindle junkie by night. I love Indian food, MacGyver reruns, and my tattoo of falling into a really great book. Low-key, loosely planned, memory-making days are my style (but there's always time for a nap!)
When It Rains
I miss you when it rains. Writers have a certain sadness, I think. The peculiar discipline of scooping into one’s own soul, to pour it onto a page requires complete honesty. To write is to imagine oneself living, if only vicariously, as another being. That sharing of a mind, soul and body is exhilarating, but too, exhausting. The knowledge that you can make yourself into anyone, anywhere, brings a certain sadness and the relentless question of “Am I who I’m supposed to be?”
I See You
To the woman in my line, two buggies back, wearing a mask and smiling with your eyes — I see you. Thank you for waiting while I wipe down the register. I know it adds aggravation to an already-tedious day.
The Tree Said to Me
Carve your initials into my side — I’ll bear this love long after you’ve both gone on. Sit with me at my feet — I’ll listen to your heart and breathe life into your thoughts.
Something You Don’t Know
She licks her thumb and presses the spine flat. His old black book, his old habit — she’d nearly forgotten. “No one came by today. I haven’t seen the kids or grandkids in a few weeks now. It’s almost dinner time. The usual for me. A few telemarketers called. Bananas. I can’t forget my bananas at the grocery store.”