Every day I am absolutely amazed at how infiltrated you are into my consciousness. I am tempted sometimes to try to capture it- by using a notepad or the recorder on my iphone- the stream of consciousness way that everything I see or touch leads to you. The other day I’d wished I’d been doing it when I just opened a dresser drawer to find clothes to wear. It went something like this: grey pants- the grey pants- I thought those went really well with a black silk top at Ann Taylor loft- the pants were on sale, the shirt wasn’t- I bought them both. I came home and tried on the outfit for you as I often did. I ended up wearing that black silk shirt to your wake. Shirt- now I need a shirt. There’s the white cotton t-shirt with little bows you brought me back from Japan a couple of months before- I said it looked really Japanese and I was happy with it. There’s my “Brooklyn” hoodie purchased on 7th avenue. You wanted to get it for me- the brown DKNY short sleeved hoodie we saw in Century 21 in downtown Brooklyn and you said, “This is your style,” – the grey and brown striped shirt from Anthropologie that you picked out when we were living out my parents after I’d just had Audrey and I was wearing the same black maternity pants and oversized sweatshirt of yours for a month. “I want to buy you this.” “I have good taste right?” you said.
List-making in a Dark Time
For any other list-makers out there, I published this on HerStories yesterday.""In this time of quarantine, my lists are offering me space outside of the walls of my home, a way of making sense of chaos, a self-imposed structure on structure-less days, and even a way...