New worlds_My Momma’s Things_The Quiet Struggle of Squirreling_The Lightness of Heavy Objects
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New worlds
Henry was packing his gear. As he picked and placed each item in the bag he began reminiscing about trips he'd taken in the past. Henry was a staunch loner. He preferred to travel alone because he always felt others slowed his travels down. His clothing packed tightly with small bags of medicinal drugs for emergencies and back up funds he closed the bag and picked it up. It was amazingly light considering the amount of things he'd put in it. Henry made his way to the door. Set down the bag. "One down, two more to go!"Henry walked into his kitchen. The travel bag was sitting on the counter wher...
My Momma’s Things
The storage unit door rolled up. Eduardo stood with his elderly momma beside him and his wife behind them.“Okay, momma, let me get a chair for you.” Eduardo took out from high a Louis XV style chair and placed it on the concrete for her. He got one out for Maria, but she waved him away and fumbled for her cigarettes and lighter. “Could you do that over there?” He pointed.She gave him a look of outrage.“The wind. The smoke will get in the chairs and the carpets. Maria, please, over there.” Maria stomped her heels away. Momma let go of her walker and sat. Eduardo got a bentwood chair for him...
The Quiet Struggle of Squirreling
My mother doesn’t know how to let anything go. And I mean anything: objects, people, animals, even thoughts and feelings. When I first noticed this condition, I was six years old. I had a new friend over after school, and as soon as he entered our house, I knew something was off.“It smells like my great-aunt Sarah’s house. Old,” he said, stretching out the ‘L’ sound while wrinkling his nose. “I smelled it on your clothes, but only a little, so it didn’t bother me. But this is icky,” he continued, walking through the house, sniffing the air like a bloodhound. “Where is it coming from?”“I don’t ...
The Lightness of Heavy Objects
“If it weren’t for cilantwww.onedoor.ccro, I’d be completely happy,” Lenny said.The other members of the HOOD (Helping Others Overcome Depression) therapy group stared at Lenny. Some had looks of amazement on their faces, some nodded knowingly. Dr. Angstrom cleared his throat and popped an Altoids into his mouth.“That’s some bullshit, Lenny. Nothin’ wrong with cilantro,” Rudy stated.“Shut up, Rudy.” Belinda glared at Rudy after she spoke. She didn’t like Rudy; he was a pudgy, sweaty splodge of a man who always arrived at the HOOD meetings with alcohol on his breath and a creepy glint in his eye. She shifted...