Months have roared passed - September, October, November, December, January, February - and I have arrived at the sixth month mark. This moment has traditionally represented a pivotal moment, the halfway point to something new, the vantage point off a mountain's peak from which I could see where I've been and where I was headed … Continue reading Six Months
Chapter VIII: She held out a box cutter. “Take this. Just in case.” The darkened St. Roch neighborhood was no place to walk without protection.
Chapter VII: It was mid-January and I had returned to familiar territory: jobless and scrambling to put together enough income to make it another month.
It's good to be cold. It's good to be uncomfortable, to feel the pain of cracked skin and chapped lips. It's good to feel the tears well in your eyes from the sheer force of nature's chill. And it sucks all the same.
It's an odd sensation to be anticipating the winter and the freezing weather that will accompany it, but after three straight years in cities that don't have real winters, there's an almost nostalgic - dare I say, romantic - aura around the idea of a snowstorm.