I’ve Never Gone Through a Breakup (And I Wish I Had)

I’ve never gone through a breakup with a boyfriend. I’ve had a few of them — five, to be exact. The sixth guy I dated ended up being my husband. But I’ve never had a breakup, not a real one, not one where you both decide that things are not working out, or where one…

This is how we sleep

When my husband is away on a business trip, Sam and I share a bed. I tried to fight it, but then the business trips became too frequent and Sam and I spent less time not sleeping than sleeping. It just wasn’t working. Last night he snuggled in next to me — all cool and…

LOVE

Sam is in love. Miss Asia is about 18, tall, with beautiful long, black hair. She is a new teacher at his preschool and she is not even his teacher, but that didn’t stop him from picking her as the one. All it took was one afternoon of playing with spray water bottles on the…

Four

In the end it’s all a blur. The time for huge, earth-shattering milestones is over — now every change is small, almost impossible to see from one day to the next. Yet here we are at the end of the another year, you are four, and all of those tiny shifts have added up to…

Young Love

This essay first appeared on Full Grown People. My phone buzzes just as I drain hot pasta over the sink with Sam hanging on my leg and my husband talking about the mortgage or some electrical issues in our basement or something else house-related. I try to nudge Sam away from the boiling water and…

These women

I never used to value my female friends. I never had that many of them — friends, or friends who were females — and I honestly just never thought about the value of surrounding myself with strong women. In college and even in my early career many women seemed like threats — personally or professionally….

Budapest

I like to stand at the foot of the bed and throw myself on the bouncy mattress. My hair splashes around my face like water and I pretend that I am a weightless, powerless body. I turn my palms toward the sky and hold my breath. That’s what I was doing as he packed his…

No more first kisses

My first kiss tasted like red wine and cigarettes. These are not completely unexpected flavors in someone’s mouth. He was 28, I was 16. He was French, a saxophone player with long hair and an earring. We spent almost every evening together that summer, holding hands, talking, eating dinner, drinking wine. He loved to use…