Things of note since moving back to Alabama.

A month without crying.
A week straight of crying.
A concussion.
A new house.
A new job.
Beautiful friendships.
Hope of family.
Smoked for the first time.
Drank too much whiskey for the last time.
Being asked why I said, "no."
Restlessness.
More questions.
No answers.
Heartache for home, for Brooklyn, for King's, for the Gallery,
for Esperanto, for the Crooked Knife, for the L train, for Humboldt,
for hearts that loved me through the worst.
Jonah.
Anger and heartache over settling.
Knowing my sister loves me.
Tuesday group.

My dad told me he was proud of me.



What if I have a story, and it was a good story. But I wrote too many bad sentences. And now the story is no longer good. And nothing gets rewritten. How does the story end?