I was nine when my Mom told me my parents were getting divorced. I remember it was a sunny day because the sun was pouring in through my bedroom windows and my bed was shoved up against the West wall of my room at the time. This memory is burned into my retinas and into … Continue reading Careful


I've mentioned before how every memory from my early childhood seems tinged with gold. As if everything was glittering and perfect. I can honestly say that aside from some verbal fights between my parents, I don't remember a lot of anything bad until the age of 8 or 9.  When things started going downhill, it … Continue reading Shining