Maggie Harrison

Dinner has always been my celebration of choice, whether for my birthday or anything else. Long evenings with friends, dressed up or in sweats, out or staying in with a few large pizzas. Languishing around a meal, chatting, reminiscing, wine flowing. It’s my favorite kind of evening. But I struggle now to hang onto the joy these evenings bring me; it feels distant and nostalgic, the idea of not caring, of being able to relax and just enjoy.

There was no fight, no reason to be upset with him. I was irritable and he was there. The next day, he wasn’t.