Standing here today, I still cannot believe that I am going to spend the rest of my life with you. I look forward to all of the mornings I get to wake up to see my radiant wife, or, more likely, my cranky but still absolutely beautiful wife (the radiance will come after the coffee). I will do my best to make you laugh everyday, and to find comfort even in our silences.
I even look forward to having arguments with you. Not because I want to fight or make you upset, but because it means we are both passionate enough about something to stand up for it. And while I can’t promise that I won’t overreact about something (and that includes overreacting about your overreacting) I promise to do everything I can not to go to bed angry.
And, most importantly, I promise to love you, no matter what (unless you murder someone. You better have a good reason for murder). I promise to work through our problems. I want to be there for you, even through the hard times, and to know that you will be there for me when I am having a hard time.
Because I simply cannot imagine anyone else by my side as I progress through my life. I see you there will me as I hike mountains, travel the country, and start a family. And if I do lose my job or a loved one, it is you that I want by my side. You are my rock; you keep me from flying to close to the sun, and you stop me from sinking deep down. I love you.



You’re toxic, and I refuse to let you take me down with you any longer. I have tried so hard to overlook all of your flaws, and to forget all of the times you made me cry, but I can’t do it anymore. I have to move on with my life, and the more I think about it, the more I believe that you are not meant to be a part of it. It breaks my heart, but I’m at a point in my life where I need to do what is best for me. I have given you so many chances, and I foolishly hope that you have changed, but you never have. You never will.
I don’t want to spend my adult life cut off from my father, but at this point I don’t know what else to do. A girl can only handle so much disappointing, and it hurts that much more when it’s family.
So here I am, out in the real world, on my own. Now I just have to convince myself that lonely is better than toxic, that cutting myself off from the only family I’ve ever known is better than the disappointment that goes along with it.


I grew up in an environment where everyone was watching; where every eye would study every flaw. I became so focused on what everyone was seeing, that I forgot to look at everyone else. I did everything I could to have the nicest clothing and the prettiest clothing, just to ensure that all of the onlookers only saw the best.

If I had only taken the time to look at others, I would have seen that they couldn’t care less about me. Everyone has their own lives and own worries, and most of them probably don’t even see me when I think they’re studying my entire existence.

I have wasted so much time worried about what other people saw of me, that I forgot to live my life.


Ah… the first snowfall of the year. All of the people around me are complaining, but I can’t help but feel the magic in the air. Maybe it’s my inner child, but the first snowfall always brings about a certain elegance that I just can’t ignore. It’s a couple of weeks before Christmas in New England, and it’s starting to feel like it.

My neighbor is grumbling as they clean off the car, but I do it with a smile on my face. I look around at the snow blanketing the town, and I am full of joy.

The next day. The snow stops following. Everything is glistening as the sun shines down; bright enough to shine but keeping everything cold enough to prevent melting. The snow sparkles and shines, and everything appears to be at peace. Every dusted tree and painted roof is beautiful.

Yes, the snow will get annoying, and I will soon want winter to be over, but right now I am going to bask in the beauty and elegance that this season brings us.


“Life goes on.” That’s what they say, right? How am I supposed to go on and continue with the pointless everyday tasks, alone? Why get out of bed, go to work, and grocery shop when there isn’t anyone waiting for me at home?

I used to live for his smile, and the way his hand fit perfectly with mine. I could just sink into his hugs and all of my stress would just melt away. Now I have to go home to an empty house with no one to hug or talk to.

But I do, somehow, get up and continue on with my life even though his has ended. And I do it for him. Even though he was only five years old, he would not want Mommy to be sad. And while I still am, and probably always will be sad, I do my best to keep going.

I hope he’s looking down on Mommy with a smile. Mommy loves you, Baby Boy.


“But what if it’s not the right decision? Or worse? What if I screw it all up?”

“Everything will be fine; you just have to make a choice.”

That is what I have been trying to tell myself for days; just make a choice. But how am I supposed to decide when both options seem good and there are no downsides?

“I know that, in theory, but it is impossible in practice.” I realize I am whining, but it reflects how I feel so I don’t fight it. “No matter what I do, someone is going to get hurt.”

“And prolonging the inevitable is only going to make it hurt more in the end. I know it’s hard, but the sooner you do it, the sooner everyone can move on with their lives.”

I know she’s right. She’s always right, that’s why I go to her. Or did, back before the cancer. I look down with a heavy sigh at the tombstone as I stand back up. I wish my mother could still be here, instead of this brief illusion. I still have moments where I can trick myself into thinking she’s still around, but reality quickly sets in.

Somehow, I will make everything work, and I will do it on my own.


I have always been a fan of paper. I prefer paper books as opposed to electronic, but it is so much more than that. For as long as I can remember, whenever I needed an escape, all I needed was a piece of paper and a pencil. Then I could create anything I wanted. I could rant about what had happened that day, or create an entirely new world to get lost in. I could write about the parents I wish I had, or write myself surrounded by friends.

As I grew up, I learned that I had to sometimes put the paper down and let life in. I had spent so much time hiding behind my notebook that it started to become an issue rather than a solution. So, I have learned to embrace life (sometimes), and, even though I always have a notebook on me, it doesn;t mean I always have to be writing.