I was 6 years old. I told you I didn’t want to ride the bus. You said it wasn’t up for discussion. I begged and pleaded. I cried and pulled my hair. You were unaffected. I threw myself on the ground and vowed never to speak to you again if you made me get on that bus.
I live in a nice upper class community. The type of place where you can go for long walks and wave to Randy while he throws ribeyes on the barbie.
In my neighborhood is a lesbian couple. At least I assume them to be lesbians.… READ THE REST
There comes a time in life when affairs, like death, become unavoidable. They become a part of the adult landscape; you just hope the bomb doesn’t go off too close to home. That the shrapnel doesn’t hit your family. This week, it landed in my inbox.… READ THE REST