I still feel like Mike’s girl. When he was alive, he’d tell perfectly good strangers about me. Anyone he encountered throughout his day was sure to find out about me in short order. The cashiers at the neighborhood grocery store knew of me because he proudly gushed about me while they wrapped the red roses he’d buy me every time he did his…
new identities
New Identities in Widowhood
Here we are. A new year. An entire expanse of fresh time laid out before me… and a mixture of dread and excitement about what that means. As I’m reflecting and looking forward from this in-between space, I’m thinking on just how much has changed in my life in the past five years. In particular, how unreal it is that I have become so many new…