Posts tagged reflection
Yellowstone
Yellowstone

In June of 1993, I was twenty-three and pregnant—again. Despite having been on the pill for years and using a diaphragm correctly, this was the third time my body tried to make me a mother before I was ready. Nothing had changed since the last time it happened: I was still living in the Ocean Beach enclave of San Diego, still in a rocky relationship with Richard, still a part-time student inching my way toward a bachelor’s degree, still a waitress, still broke. Things were worse, in fact. My roommate informed me that she was moving to Guatemala, and as I couldn’t afford the whole apartment, I had to move out. Richard had just graduated college and planned to ride his motorcycle up the west coast to Seattle, so we decided to break up (again). When a co-worker heard me complaining about a lack of summer plans, he suggested a hospitality company that hired seasonal workers in Yellowstone National Park. Employment included room and board, so I applied, they accepted, and I packed my bags.

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True StoriesKristina Buschrelationships, travel, reflection, traveling, friendshipComment
Fingernails
Fingernails

In the high dependency room, the room before graduating to the special care baby unit, I would cut your fingernails for the first time.

My mom took a bus to Hackney Central in East London, to buy the tiny, baby-doll sized fingernail clippers.

Grandma had traveled from Michigan, where I grew up, and was not used to big city living. For her, a bus ride to a very busy place, by herself, was a brave step for her. She then walked from the bus to the Woolworths on the corner.

She did it for me, because I couldn’t leave you.

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True StoriesKristina Buschfamily, motherhood, reflectionComment
Polar Solstice
Polar Solstice

The evening before you came into this world we endured the longest blackest night.

Winter. The hibernal solstice. Our slice of Earth turning her back to the sun, head bowed, submitting to the dark.

That night imprinted its suffocating length onto my birthing body. Within the week, wrapped in tendrils of dread

postnatally deeply depressed.

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True StoriesJulia Nusbaummotherhood, family, reflectionComment
Why We Came
Why We Came

When they ask me, I tell them we came for the rain.

It’s easy that way. It makes them laugh. It’s the dog walkers who always want to know. A passing conversation in the park. They usually talk about Mochi’s long legs first. Like a mom with a new baby, I let them gush over him. No, he’s not a puppy, just small. Yes, he’s enthusiastic. I tell them he’s a rescue and an immigrant too. He was my carry-on luggage, stored safely below the seat in front of me from San Francisco to Dublin. We linger for a few minutes, as our dogs take the time to sniff. Then they ask, they always ask, why did we come?

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True StoriesKristina Buschrelationships, reflection, family, moving forward Comments
If Walls Could Talk
If Walls Could Talk

You and I became acquainted nearly thirteen years ago. It wasn’t love at first sight. In fact, I was initially after another one just down the street. But that one had too many problems and I didn’t want such a big project. I noticed you on the same day that I said no to the other one, and so I came to see you. You were cute, in solid condition. Very old-school but nothing that a little modern touch couldn’t fix. I had been casually looking for a home for several months. I and my now ex-husband, that is. This felt a little different and we really needed something positive to look forward to. Something of a distraction, maybe.

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True StoriesKristina Buschreflection, home, relationships, family Comments
Tight Grip
Tight Grip

The amygdala assigns emotional significance to clutter I can’t throw away. To souvenirs and books throughout our house. To clawhammers, backpacks, yard signs we hang on pegboards. To ordinary places we visit again and again. This precious tiny thing deep inside my head also helps form shiny new memories. I want to hold on to my amygdala for a long time. Keep it healthy and functioning. Feed it. Maintain it. That sort of thing.

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True StoriesKristina Buschrelationships, love, reflection Comment
Once and for Always - A Brief
Once and for Always - A Brief

It’s going on thirty-six years, yet I still argue with the thing. While walking in the neighborhood, I sketch out plans for a new beginning that will free me from the past. Or, say, I think that I will not think about it, but end up not fully admitting to consciousness the trauma surrounding what seems to have snowballed into its own life-form. A mass of pain is located in my lumbar spine—I know the discs leak fluid, though the last MRI showed bulges but no actual herniation.

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Guest Userchronic pain, illness, reflection, ageComment