22 August

Our anniversary again. The day I moved to Asheville in 1986 to begin my life with Hayes. Eleven years after you died and the day still fucks with me- still throws me into a funk. I vasculliate between gratitude and sadness-trying hard to avoid an impending abyss I sense not far away. It seems tears could flow. Seems they could flow fiercely. And yet they don't. They appear in the corners of my eyes and then evaporate. I can not remember the last time I cried.

It is Saturday. I'm working another wedding. I'm bummed. I'm in need of cash so I have to show up. I'm uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. The mere thought of being happy for someone else on what was(is?) my anniversary seems odd. It makes me edgy. Not a good head space to find myself.