Glimmers 13 to 27

It looks prettier in the photo, but believe me: it was creepy as heck IRL.

I promise I'll get better at posting, I swear.

• August 4: Tonight I sat down to watch Strange New Worlds and as I was climbing on my couch it hit me all over again: Jess is gone, gone, gone. Jess is not here. She fit into my life so perfectly that when she came it was both a revelation and inevitable: yes, of course it’s you, it was always meant to be you, we were always just waiting for each other. The way that gravity pulls Halley’s Comet on its spectacular and also ordinary path. And though the grief made it impossible to breathe for a moment there was also an unmistakable sense of being anchored to it, stitched into the world in a way that I wasn’t before all of this happened. The way that the people we love pull us on and pull us forward into paths unknown. When I began writing down these everyday-thoughts, these glimmers, I had in mind that I was doing something similar to Ross Gay’s The Book of Delights, except that I knew already that it wouldn’t be joy all the time, or at least not what we might think of as joy all the time. That flash of feeling connected in all ways to the world because you’ve lost someone so dear is not happiness. And yet, somehow, it is.