Musings

I wrote this for a Crystal Cestari project. She's an amazing YA author, Disney aficionado, and overall amazing person. She's been instrumental in helping me find my writer's voice and I can't thank her enough. Visit her at cyrstalcestari.com.

The Call Angi received the call early, at 5 am, unexpected as most early morning calls are. “Is this…Miss Angi? Mrs. Angela Grant?” At first, panic set in and her first thought was Something’s wrong with the kids. “You were at Tompkins Memorial hospital about 30 years ago?” The panic subsided to intense curiosity. “Who is this?” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m sorry to bother you so early…

Too often, we don't talk about our mental health. We keep it close if not hidden. I'm sharing my story just in case it could help even one person or at least start a dialogue. TL;DR: my mental health declined to where I needed partial hospitalization.

As many of you know, I was very sick with Covid last year in March. It lasted for months and caused recurring issues both mental and physical. I’m considered a Covid long-hauler. I developed anxiety, my ADHD and depression was exacerbated, and constant brain fog and fatigue set in. In October of last year, I was admitted to the hospital for severe head pain that doctors, neurologists, and…

“Shhhh…”

Karl readjusts the duct tape on the man’s mouth then nods in satisfaction. “This will all be over soon. We just have to wait.” He didn’t want to get too comfortable so he passed up the recliner and sat down on the dining room chair. The man, Brandon, head writer of Star Watch, had one of those large brownstones with a recessed dining room. While the recliner was closer to the sound bar,…

#BlackLIvesMatter #SayTheirNames #TheSkinWeAreIn

Let me tell you about the tragic underlying thought behind a potentially comedic event. So, I’ve been home by myself for a week. Side note: I’m so out of practice living alone! Anyhoo, it’s like 11:30 or midnight or something and I have an intense desire for cereal. Cinnamon Life cereal, to be precise. With almond milk cuz I’m bougie. With all this freedom I have, leaving at midnight for…

Using Puzzle Pieces As A Metaphor for Personal Growth Is So Clichéd

…but I’m going to do it anyway.

Life is like a giant puzzle with like, 4,163 pieces (I did the math with a calculator and everything!). Growing up, we have no idea what that puzzle is going to look like. We need to keep adding pieces. How do we add pieces, you ask? Great question! Every event that shapes us, that molds our personality, is a puzzle piece. These events are usually firsts and are…

What do you do, love, In the winking hours of twilight When little heads nod wearily, And the sun goes to warm other lands?

What cares have you, looking upon the night; Devouring stories like a literary vampire, then Wiping your mouth, slick with the breath of the teller. Are you a saver or damner of souls?

Do you scour the city for prey, Seducing them with whispers, promises, Glimpses of your sacred treasures? Is that you making me breathless?

Do you mewl and purr with painted eyes And affect all within sight? Encourage eager lovers to taste your lips Only to be slain with a skillful kiss?

Such a strange rain today. Hesitant yet eager Like it had mistaken Flying for falling.

It rapped on my windows; Urgent, full, seeking. As if desperately Trying to escape itself.

Such a strange rain; Restricted by geography And the very cloud That required its release.

Unsure of it’s strength Yet intent on flying, the rain Tested itself against a sun That demanded to shine.

Such an odd rain today…

Empty http://wp.me/s4Vg66-empty

I dreamt I held your hand And a surge of warmth Settled in my bones.

It felt like hearth and heart. I took pleasure in it. Safe In your presence.

I squeezed your hand To gently express I am for you…with you.

Only to awaken with a jolt, holding empty air in my clenched fist.

Her lithe body stretched, Then curled itself around me, Offering it’s many pleasures And begging me to partake.

She sighed and kissed my neck, inhaling deeply As if to tattoo my scent on her soul. In this moment, we are everything. A limb-tangled mass of lust and worship

I took in her body, felt it with my eyes, Taking note of every curve and wave, Desperate to remember, loathe to forget. She half-smiled, still groggy with satisfaction.

Her skin glowed from the sheen of sweat. I felt as if nothing so beautiful ever existed. I touched her lips, still soft from kissing And watched the sun rays tickle her hair.

I Believe In Santa Claus

Every time around Christmas, the same conundrum seems to come up among my friends and family with young ones: How to keep the belief in Santa Claus alive. When kids are really little, it’s easy. There are so many things beyond their comprehension that even the microwave seems like magic. Hell, I remember throwing my dirty clothes in the magical hamper and *poof*–clean clothes! Then there comes a…