Penelope in Retrograde

by Brooke Abrams

I do, however, know that as loud and crowded as this airport is, it is not hell. Hell is where I’m going next.

I’ve always been envious of people who go home for the holidays or even just on a whim without having to book extra sessions with their therapists to prep first.

whenever we spend time together, we always end up turning into the worst versions of ourselves.

He actually hates all weather that isn’t sun, which I think is the reason he has epic meltdowns whenever it rains in California. He feels betrayed.

They were weird and eccentric, like all the best people are, and they loved bigger than the Pacific, like most people rarely do.

Damn Mercury in retrograde.

“It went by fast, didn’t it?” “Some parts did,” I whisper.

Our eyes meet, and he smiles at me like I’m the best news he’s gotten in weeks.

That’s the problem with coming back home, I guess. You realize how much you’ve missed since you’ve been gone.

You, me, and Falon can do traditional Thanksgiving things like make pie and day drink?

That’s the problem with stalking people on the internet. There’s rarely ever a good time to admit it.

I don’t “people” well before coffee,

Now is the worst time. The only time more unpleasant would be later or sometime in the future.

There comes a point in a man’s life when he realizes that he has more road behind him than ahead of him.

And I don’t want to give that up just yet. I want to hold on to it, and see if it’s possible for this little happy to grow roots and bloom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Martin asks. “Probably hell, but I’m OK with it.”

“Your dream is more important than any pie.” “You greatly underestimate how Southern my family is.”

“Because that’s what books are made for. They’re made to connect you to people, real or fictional, even when you feel like you’re completely alone.”

I’m not the person you call to make sure that a dinner party doesn’t go off the rails. I’m the one who does the derailing.

The writer in me feels a sense of relief in knowing that moments like this exist in real life and not just on paper.

I’ve been home only a few days, and already I’ve reverted back to being the worst version of myself.

“Happiness isn’t a place you go back to. Happiness is a place you build and rebuild and then tear down and remodel a thousand times over inside you.”