i wish there was a contest to meet a.l.—have tea or whatever. i had a virtual meetign with her this past month—first read bird by bird, which i put off for years out of a strange sense of prescient familarity, like not wanting to read a memoir your kid sister wrote about th e disfunctional family—and it was so brilliant and cozy and fun that i had to read it slower and slower and just let it sit on my bed waiting for me like a friend—when it was done i was jonesing for her. the one thing that struck me was how in love she was with her son—as a single mom i had felt the same intense passion—a love that could not be tarnished—but i wondered what had happened to that adorable two year old and how she was dealing with her by-now adolescent.
after a particularly heartbreaking encounter with my oldest something made me run online, like you’d run to a friend—i put her name in and BAM—found her story that included specific descriptions of near thruway accidents, torrents of snot and tears, begging to jesus and mary for mercy—thigns that were dna matches for mine—she makes me want to join a gospel church and put my hair in blonde dreads and be the one she can call when losing it…