My first camping memory is from when I was around 6. I was sleeping in the back of a van (truck?) with my grandma. It is unclear why we were not in a tent. I think it was because of storms but 34 years and too many chemicals that could affect my brain later, I am not sure. All I know is the vehicle we were in was locked with me in it, and I had to pee. My grandma would not wake up. (She wasn’t dead, as I fully understand now, Old People just need to sleep! Let us be!). I wailed and banged and by some miracle, my dad heard me and saved me. At least, this is the version my memory has supplied and I’m sticking with it. (He still does this; not that long ago, he didn’t even know I was having The Shittiest Day and text me because he thought something was wrong and he should check in??)
I’m on a self-imposed month-long FB and IG break for my mental health. Received the email with your latest work, read it, and knew that I had to create a Radical account just to tell you how much I loved this piece. “…but the beautiful thing about life is I get to try again and if it doesn’t work out—You (and I) can always leave.” I really need to live that way. Also, it had me thinking about being alone vs loneliness—perhaps you’ve written on this before? It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as relationships have changed.
I’m on a self-imposed month-long FB and IG break for my mental health. Received the email with your latest work, read it, and knew that I had to create a Radical account just to tell you how much I loved this piece. “…but the beautiful thing about life is I get to try again and if it doesn’t work out—You (and I) can always leave.” I really need to live that way. Also, it had me thinking about being alone vs loneliness—perhaps you’ve written on this before? It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as relationships have changed.