My hair is falling out. I started noticing the thinning more and more over the past two months, and the increase in strands sticking to my sweaty arms mid-workout or in my palms as I lather and rinse. It’s stress, I could say. Because, I’m… Read More
All posts by “Simply Mella”
Intention
(In April, I committed to writing a new collection of short stories and to start submitting the works out into the world. The following was recently named a finalist and published in the Hemingway Shorts 2018.) Intention We have hawks, as much as anyone can… Read More
Project Home Again
The distance between us, isn’t. It simply isn’t. It doesn’t exist. Physically, she’s across the loading dock from me, sure, but the space we’re living in, it’s the same. It’s as safe and certain as any of us are at any point in our lives.… Read More
In Our Skin
My skin is thin. Visible veins on my eyelids, the soft underside of my wrists, the palms of my hands and creases of my elbows. There are places you can see the blues and green map of my life. My skin has the scars of… Read More
If (And Everything After)
My children’s great-grandmother died last week. She was my father-in-law’s mother and had been a fixture at every family holiday and Sunday afternoon in my memory. She was small in stature, but a spitfire who would tell you like it is. She would sit on… Read More
Me, Myself & Everyone Else
In Context: considered together with the surrounding words or circumstances. I dreamt of my Pepere last night. Not as I remember him, but younger, with dark brown hair and smiling eyes. He was in our home and asked to see our photo albums, as I quickly… Read More
New Years Evolution
It’s quarter to one in the morning on the second day of a new year and I’m too restless to sleep. I’ve been staring at my computer for three hours, give or take, minus a ten minute attempt to fall asleep alongside Vinnie. The program… Read More
Shelter Series: Welcome
I’ve been here before, this place or others like it. Places where those that we avoid eye contact with while walking the streets of our cities, find respite. Places where they are welcome. It was snowing when we arrived and the line had begun. A… Read More
A Letter to My Son
I used to the think space between years was just a long exhale, a breath. I solitary beat in a life that will have many, many beats. Nothing distinguishable from one inhale to the next. But then, there was you. Thirteen years ago, I spent… Read More
Blur
Standing beneath the spotlights on our small church stage, we practiced the songs for service this morning. Looking down, the words on the music stand blurred. No, not blurred, not exactly. It was as if the lights were too bright, the writing too soft, or… Read More