The View from a Drawbridge

The random musings of a bridgetender with entirely too much time on her hands.

Every once in a while, my mother used to talk in her sleep. It was usually something quite silly, and I’d have fun teasing her about it the next day. She would just roll her eyes at me. But one night, when I was about 10 years old, she said, “Oh, George…” She said it …

Continue reading

People want to touch my hair all the time. It’s freakishly thick, and at various times in my life it has been quite long. I wouldn’t mind so much if they asked first. But no. They just dive right in there. It feels like a violation. And one time when I was in 7th grade, …

Continue reading