"He took up a lot of space. Moving around us. Weaving in and out of the aisles. Some ladies were annoyed. An old man behind us snickered and under his breath said, ‘hurry up.’"
"If your neighbor is experiencing a loss, or a new neighbor is moving in, or if a neighbor lost a job or a baby or a husband. Stand in the gap. This is how we walk each other back home."
"The entire unit was thundering with noise as many inmates pounded on the doors shouting for our deputy who lay unconscious and heavily bleeding on the floor."
"It took years to collect all the little details of what actually happened that night, but I eventually did. With 10 adults and five kids present, anyone would assume our daughter would have been safe."
I want there to be a word for the vulnerability you feel as you lay there just lying to yourself about what's to come. A word for the way your heart goes from fluttery to thudding in your ears. A word for that one last moment of hopefulness before the world comes crashing down. Why isn't there a word?
"The lockdown ... it feeds into pornography, loneliness, depression and mental health," McDowell recently told "The Pure Flix Podcast," noting that stress, isolation and fear of the unknown are all issues that are increasingly intensifying amid the COVID19 crisis.
I stared at her and she held out her arms for me. Me. The scary monster. She wanted me. The same person who frightened her, she was seeking comfort from.
