Last week, I woke to an Isolation Journals prompt from Joy Julliet Bullen asking me to consider a physical item left behind by a loved one, what it means to me, what this says about me. The irony was that I was already considering exactly that. You see, the night before I read this prompt, I sat with my friend Stacey, who was visiting from New York City. For forty years, she was the longest and one of the dearest friends of Adrienne, who died June 2019. She comes now to be with the living pieces of what—or rather who—Adrienne left behind, her three girls and us friends here who grew to know her in adulthood. But often she gets some physical mementos and surprise stories, too.
What We Leave
What We Leave
What We Leave
Last week, I woke to an Isolation Journals prompt from Joy Julliet Bullen asking me to consider a physical item left behind by a loved one, what it means to me, what this says about me. The irony was that I was already considering exactly that. You see, the night before I read this prompt, I sat with my friend Stacey, who was visiting from New York City. For forty years, she was the longest and one of the dearest friends of Adrienne, who died June 2019. She comes now to be with the living pieces of what—or rather who—Adrienne left behind, her three girls and us friends here who grew to know her in adulthood. But often she gets some physical mementos and surprise stories, too.