Category: Gigi
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Rana
Beneath the soft red glow of my kitchen light, as I make my morning coffee, I count the orchid blossoms that have finally fallen as I notice a neighbor (she lives in the apartments across the street) go outside in a long, gray wool coat. There’s a special protectiveness of people hovering around me with…
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Transluscent Gloves
I’m trying to make sense of what I narrated in my Voice Memo app this morning. I’d like to turn it into something. I keep thinking of translucent gloves: wet and buried in mud. It feels like the stack of unanswered text messages sitting inside my phone, open loops that go against my character. Against…
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the Moon in Leo
Sitting on the cold floor in a patch of warm sunlight, with Gigi circling me.I text my boss, “I’m working from home to watch her.”She’s been on the mend from a pancreatitis flare up, and I think we’re finally in the clear. I kept her (and her seriously stinky butt) out of the crate and…
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not being real
From a second-floor balcony, I hear a sneeze that sounds forced and theatrical, followed by a friendly hello.
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Everglazed
… I see the old couple who have their own Saturday routine. The husband always taps the window and waves excitedly at Gigi, not me, to be perfectly clear.
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Tilted
In the distance, a mushroom cloud rises while I’m talking to my mother. “Are we saying goodbye?” I ask, and she tells me to stay inside, take cover.
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Waiting In the Tall Grass
“It’s amazing how we might return, time and time again, to a place we only might get scraps from.”
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The Watermelon Dome 🎧
The outside smells like when we were talking. Musty grass. Spring giving into summer faster than most regions. The gardenia tree next door releasing its scent. Or maybe it’s the perfume I wore last year around this time. Warm and lingering on my neck, rose and blueberry and magnolia. In the watermelon dome, our skin…
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Cherry + Espresso
I pick up Gigion the strip of road with no sidewalkand I unintentionally strut,wearing the short-shorts I slept inand a shirt that the breeze blows through,my chin forward and my shoulders back.I carry her snugin between my ribs and my hip.I can feel her back legsdangling behind meand I suppress a laughthat ends up as…
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Muovi il culo, è Pasqua 🎧
I love the way we sort of free falldown the stairs in the morningsfor our walk.But especiallyon holiday mornings.I think about someone my ageawake to watch their childrenexperience the plastic sensationsof their Easter basketwhile they sip a coffee.But for me, it’s different—and this isn’t to say one version isbetter or worse.I love the stillnessthe normally…
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Upon our shore?
I get a text message from a number I don’t recognize that says: Cameuponourshore and I’m intrigued because WHAT DOES IT MEAN? I must know. So I immediately write back… only to receive a photo of an alligator. I realize, oh! It’s the sweet neighbor whose number I should’ve saved (and still haven’t). There is…
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Rituals
The end of our walk starts with my daily encouragement to hurry Gigi home by telling her she’s going to get second breakfast. This doesn’t really help at all (she still stops and sticks her face in every damn thing), nor does it discourage her from barking at the passing cars or bike riders on…
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a Picture
today Gigi had her Silky Terrier (aka prone to tartar and plaque) teeth cleaned and I felt lost without her. I fell in a Whole Foods parking lot (cut open one knee, scraped the other) and bounced up as quickly as I hit the asphalt. I (laughably) hobbled around inside and wondered why it’s so…
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Paper-Cut Hearts
I love February. I’m a sucker for the colors of Valentine’s Day and all the sweetness that comes with the holiday. I don’t know why, I just think it’s cute. I’m still off social media. Okay, sometimes, at work, I’d skim my (finally deactivated) Twitter feed (which is mostly astrology content creators and X-Files fans),…
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Write a Letter
I’m a big fan of letters— writing them and receiving them. I receive them less often than I write them, but what can you do? When I was in high school, I spent most of my time ignoring the recommended reading and focusing on my own curriculum. I preferred female writers from the Regency, Victorian…
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January Song 🎧
It’s a dreary Sunday morning, fog and a white-gray sky making the warm temperature seem contradictory. Thankfully, there’s an intermittent breeze, light and cool enough to be comfortable as Gigi and I head out for our regular walk. Sometimes we go through the apartments across the street from our home. She loves this because there…