Michelle Ross Kim Magowan
“I disagree to disagree!” That was almost his parting line. The box he’d checked, filing for divorce, was “Irreconcilable differences.”
Before she goes, she will make a list. Two lists, actually. The first list, to help her keep her courage, will be a list of reasons that they will be better off without her. This list has lived in her head for a long time, although some days it speaks more loudly than others.
Rachel Mans McKenny
Ben wiggled himself free of his uterine hotel, evicted by a stream of contraction-causing drugs. So much for the “he’ll come when he’s ready” wisdom from my mother. Instead, “he’ll come by suchandsuch a date or we’ll drag him out,” sayeth the doctor.
The table is piled high with class picture proofs and volunteer forms. One lonely check written to the Homeowner’s Association. A partially completed to-do list floats to the floor.
Still, some other life haunts me. The possibility of things I could’ve done better. The possibility of how I could have been better.
When your mother calls, you can’t account for the time. Surely you weren’t feeding and changing her the entire morning, but you can’t say exactly what happened, only that you’ve barely eaten or slept. You tell her you’ve noticed new lines around your eyes in the mirror and joke that the baby is already stretching out of her clothes. She tells you babies have a way of pocketing time, maybe in the folds of their tiny skin, or their clothes. Who can say?
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