The View from a Drawbridge

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

The Letting Go

The View from a Drawbridge

When my mother died, I hung on to this bottle of deodorant she had given me until long after it had been used up. Because she gave it to me. I think I got it into my head that getting rid of that bottle would be like losing my connection with her. I just couldn’t …

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I used to know a guy who had a photo of a cat. “Cute cat,” I said, “What’s his name?” “I dunno. A pen pal sent that picture to me 30 years ago.” “Are you still friends?” “No.” “Then why are you keeping the photo of a long-dead cat that belonged to someone you no …

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