I’m taking it as a sign.
Feeling like I need to blog.
I’m in NY for the rest of this week, currently recovering from the drug and alcohol cocktail I had to ingest in order to board the plane (another issue in itself that I’m actually kind of upset with myself for? I don’t know. Generalized anxiety disorders are so fucking annoying/debilitating at times). Anyway, I made it and now I have to face the cold hard facts that this is the first time I’ve been to her house, and it will also be the last. This isn’t even her house anymore. Technically, it’s sold. All that’s left to do is sign some documents and get everything out.
Which is why we’re here, to clean out what isn’t worth keeping and salvage anything that we can’t bear to part with. That’s how my mother put it.
For me though, I can’t even imagine her life here. I never knew her here. It’s hard for me to see my aunt wandering around this kitchen, cooking herself dinner, pouring a glass of wine, and settling in on the couch to read a book before bed. I can’t see it. It happened for 35 years, but I can’t see it.
The calendar was open to November on her wall when we walked in last night. November, because she came to visit us for Thanksgiving last year and she never came back.
the dumbest thing is when parents say “this isnt how i raised you” like ?????? yes it really is you literally raised me and here i am
I wasn’t at all surprised that when you type “vibrators” into the search box at xojane.com, Emily’s review of this little nugget is one of the first things to pop up. Will be ordering. After all it, “looks like something a fairy would masturbate with” and Emily McCombs has NEVER let me down.