I had turned twenty-one that morning.  There should have been music. Coffee. Maybe my mom trying too hard to make pancakes the way she did when I was little. Maybe a hug from someone who remembered that birthdays were supposed to feel like proof you were wanted.  Instead, the house was quiet.  Too quiet.  My mother stood near the sink, drying the same mug over and over, her eyes red like she had already cried before I walked in.
Posted in

I had turned twenty-one that morning. There should have been music. Coffee. Maybe my mom trying too hard to make pancakes the way she did when I was little. Maybe a hug from someone who remembered that birthdays were supposed to feel like proof you were wanted. Instead, the house was quiet. Too quiet. My mother stood near the sink, drying the same mug over and over, her eyes red like she had already cried before I walked in.

MY DAD GAVE ME A ONE-WAY TICKET AT MY BIRTHDAY, BUT THEY DIDN’T KNOW I WAS … I had turned twenty-one that morning. There should have been music. Coffee. Maybe my mom trying too hard to make pancakes the way she did when I was little. Maybe a hug from someone who remembered that birthdays were supposed to feel like proof you were wanted. Instead, the house was quiet. Too quiet. My mother stood near the sink, drying the same mug over and over, her eyes red like she had already cried before I walked in.Read more