Stream of Consciousness
I Didn’t Watch The Ball Drop
We put our kid to bed at 9, and then, me and my wife followed shortly after instead of pushing ourselves like two adults watching their youth die slowly. Ordinarily I would make a huge thing about the new year. I think most years I needed it to be new. I wanted to believe so badly that we can get a fresh start or reset the beginning of every new year.
By Bridge Theory2 years ago in Poets
The Key Between Stranger Realms - Day Eleven
On this unordinary morning, I am lost in a way that has become awfully familiar. We are not here. But we are, aren’t we? The routine has been upheaved for the first and final holiday. I sit at the thrifted kitchen table, sipping instant coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon for a little something special.
By Sam Eliza Green2 years ago in Poets
I am IT . Top Story - January 2025.
Anxiety waves wash over me this December 31, 2024. In years past, there was excitement, or fatigue, waiting for Rocking New Year’s Eve and gastronomic juices flowing, thinking of our January 1st good luck dinner. This year’s end is an exclamation. I am now IT, the last one. When my mother died, the realization exploded in my brain that being the youngest conferred the unique experience of more loss. I would be the last to die, the survivor, my fate that of experiencing more loss. I reached it this year. Here it is. I have arrived. I have no one to ask about a forgotten or dim memory, no one to clarify confusion in the youngest's memories.
By Andrea Corwin 2 years ago in Poets
