My room

My room
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Virginia Woolf

Sunday, September 28, 2014

On the Bridge

The first time I saw her on the bridge I was on my way to the twins. I was still driving those days and having a car was becoming a burden. I had my share of parking tickets by then. Making car and insurance payments when I barely had money to eat was starting to sting. One of my headlights burned out and I was threatened twice within a three day span with a ticket twice by the police if I didn't have it fixed.

In a panic I went to AutoZone and the guy behind the counter fixed the light for me. It didn't cost much, but my nerves were fried. My car, which I loved dearly, was becoming less of a necessity and more of a luxury. I wasn't driving to White Plains daily anymore. Sometimes I only drove to move it to the opposite side of the street, and because I got to see my car less, I worried about it more.

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Home Alone for the First Time

With Madeline and her four children away for nearly two months on vacation, it was like a huge weight I didn't even know was there immediately lifted off my shoulders.

I've always been fiercely independent. I also don't enjoy being watched, or feeling like someone is watching my ins and outs (who the hell does?). Having five sets of eyes potentially watching me whenever I came home, whenever I went into the kitchen or the bathroom was stressful in a way I hadn't realized, and it was nice to finally move around the apartment without worrying about anyone else.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Leaving The Big Fancy

I love to drive. When I lived at home I would often find excuses to go out driving and get lost for entire blocks of time.

The drive to and from The Big Fancy was one of the few escapes I had left. It was a beautiful trip. The Bronx River Drive is stunning and scenic, and it helped me relax every single time. I actually looked forward to it. I often left Madeline's early, looking forward to the drive, and when I arrived at the mall much earlier than then beginning of my shift, I would sit in my car with a cup of coffee and stare out the window.

I've always tried to look for the good things in the world. Writing about the bad things is hard, so I procrastinate. But they're stories that need to be told.