Home Is Where the Bodies Are

by Jeneva Rose

Death reminds us that life isn’t infinite and that one day, our time will come too.

We pause to listen to that reminder, to acknowledge it, to show it the respect it demands, and then we spread out into the world like pappi on a dying dandelion, waiting for it to call us again, hoping the next call will be to gather, rather than to be gathered around.

It’s odd. Some people never see it coming, others have a countdown, and I don’t know which is worse.

She told me flowers reminded her of life—beautiful, delicate, and short-lived.

“The wrinklier the skin, the harder the life.” It’s a badge of honor for her, evidence of her hardships.

There’s not many things you can count on in life, but that . . . is one thing you can count on. It will rise and it will fall—no matter what. Don’t matter if you’re sick or sad. Don’t matter if there is war or there is peace. Don’t matter if you see it or you don’t. That sun. You can count on it.

“I love you, Mom. Thank you for having me, for raising me, for loving me, for being like the sun . . . the one thing I could always count on.”

Your father. He didn’t disappear. Don’t trust . .

When you shine brighter than the sun, it’s hard for others to look at you, so you have two choices: look and be blinded with resentment or look away.

But sometimes it’s the bad things in life that make us feel the most alive.

I’ve actually never understood that saying. Going crazy . . . because crazy isn’t a place you go, it comes right to you.

Money changes people the same way death does. If you don’t know how to manage every aspect of it, it’ll bring out the worst in you.

I look away, focusing on the white wall behind her. I’ve never been fond of eye contact. It feels too intimate. It’s a way to establish trust—but no one should trust me. I don’t even trust myself.

Even if I tell her no, she won’t believe me. You can’t trust people with an addiction because in many cases, like mine, their addiction is stronger than their word.

She always loved a bargain and truly believed one man’s garbage was another man’s treasure.

Last week, I wrote a short story. It started out strong, lost its way in the middle, and never got back on track. The ending fell flat, the potential from the strong beginning faded, and it seemed unsalvageable. I rearranged words, deleted, added, but no matter what—it just wasn’t what I intended it to be. I wanted more for it, but some things just can’t be polished, so I threw it away. Mom, is that how you felt about me? —Nicole

As we age, we shed layers of ourselves, disintegrating like any other organic material, but some of us just break down faster than others.

He closes the door behind him, leaving me to fend off the monsters on my own. But they’re not under the bed anymore. They’re in me.

Maybe Michael’s right, it’s depressing to revisit the past and won’t do any of us any good. It can’t change anything. Or maybe it’s just what we need. A new perspective. Closure, as they say, to a life we’ll never live again.

don’t regret my decisions or the life I’ve made, though if I could go back, I’d dream a little more.

That realization only sets in later in life, or in some cases, when it’s cut short. When the seemingly impossible becomes the possible.

“If you’re afraid of falling, you’ll never fly. If you’re afraid of failing, you’ll never try. If you’re afraid of dying, you’ll never truly be alive.”

“The first to stand in your way. Other people are going to tell you no. They’re going to tell you that you can’t do something, you’re not good enough, you’re not worthy. You don’t need to do that. Don’t add to the noise. Because that’s all it is . . . noise. You be a voice, a voice for yourself.”

“You have your whole life to date, Nicole. Don’t rush growing up because you can’t go backward, only forward,”

know my children’s futures are bright, but I want to live in the now—even if it is dimly lit, and we’re barely scraping by. Because I know now is guaranteed, but tomorrow may never come.

a misshapen thing that was once made with love and molded to perfection. Even the most perfect things crumble under pressure.

They say you should live life with no regrets, but I’ve lived a lifetime of them and my biggest one is standing right in front of me.

I think that people dislike something for one of two reasons: we truly dislike it, or we dislike it because it gives us an opportunity to value something else more. And when you don’t have much in life, there isn’t much you’re able to detest before you run out of things to, well, detest.

It’s a bond that can never be severed, for the love between a mother and her child is infinite.

“Feeling dead while your body still walks this earth is far worse than being dead.”

It’s easy to become a cynic when you live in a cynical world, where best intentions are not true intentions, where trust feels more like a religion—not one you practice, just one you go along with in case there is a God in the end.

“It’s the not knowing that kills me. A mixture of hope and grief is toxic, like combining ammonia and bleach. On their own, you can stand it at least for a little while, but together, it’s deadly.”

Addiction is like having your arm in a vise. You can’t loosen the grip. You can’t pull away. You just have to learn to live with it.

Funny how quickly you can turn on yourself, mistake a lie for the truth.

The moments that change us forever always feel recent, because we carry them with us whether we want to or not.

Resentment only poisons the person who consumes it, not the one it’s intended for.

Saying nothing is the worst way to end everything. No chance to plea.

We can only endure so much before we can’t anymore.

Sometimes you have to lose parts of yourself just to survive.

You’re not the child I wanted, but you’re the one I deserved. –Regretfully, your mother

I’ve learned there’s a lot of things you can bury, but the past isn’t one of them.

I’ve taken these secrets to the grave, but that’s as far as I can take them. Laura Thomas

Grief makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do, the kind of things that splinter your soul.

They say it’s the truth that will set you free, but they never specify whether telling the truth or knowing the truth will give you your freedom.