I went to the weed shop with my twenty-year-old daughter the other night. “I’m running low on weed.” She smiled, “In case you want to go to with me to get more.” I didn’t even pretend to feign shock. My daughter smokes pot and given the current state of the world, now I sort of do, too.

When she was still away at college, one thousand miles from home, and news of the coronavirus was just starting to break, I was in a literal panic. I was afraid of state borders closing. I worried about air travel and the contagiousness…

Sometimes, I have no idea what my boyfriend is talking about. He’ll be saying something about someone from work, but halfway through I’ll realize he’s relaying a conversation he overheard at the post office… or he’s telling me a story about what I think is his childhood, but then I discover it’s something from a movie he once saw. It’s not that I’m a bad listener, or that he’s a bad story teller, but I sometimes think we speak different languages.

I love this man. I like him a lot, too. After five years together, we have a really nice…

…(And Now I See Little Deaths Everywhere)

My husband’s birthday is this month and even though he is no longer with us, my daughter and I will still celebrate. Joel had MS but a few months after he turned 50, he died from complications of Multiple Sclerosis and West Nile Virus. Dying from a mosquito bite seems so quaint in the age of coronavirus.

He has been gone for almost seven years. Seven Years. He has missed the entirety of our daughter’s teenage-hood. Graduations and driving and boys…. And so much more. Our neighborhood alone, thanks to both the economy…

“I’m getting a lot of stares, but I think it’s because everyone is jealous.” I texted my friend from my seat on the airplane. “I feel very Covid-safe, and they probably don’t.”

The text accompanied a photo I took of myself in the full-length, airport bathroom mirror about a half an hour earlier. In it, I’m wearing my colorful face mask which features images of Dr. Fauci, my glasses, jeans and a sweatshirt, as well as my black compression socks and new-ish Birkenstocks.

My daughter, who I was taking the two hour flight up north to visit, said it was…

Icry every time I pick up my daughter from the airport. I see her sweet little face and those green eyes like her daddy’s searching for me as I sit in my semi-parked car hoping security won’t tell me to move and circle the airport again.

My daughter sports her usual travel ensemble of sorority sweatshirt and black leggings. As she lugs her backpack and wheels her luggage behind her, I think to myself, It would be so easy if this were Joel coming home from a trip. We’d reunite outside baggage claim like it was the most ordinary thing…

I miss wearing my black wedge booties. I miss wearing my Louis Vuitton scarf that I bought myself as a gift, just because. And I really miss wearing lipstick. If I’m ever feeling blah, I blot on some Mac Viva Glam — blot because otherwise it’s too dark — and it does the trick. Lipstick makes me feel “dressed” even if I’m just going to Trader Joe’s. …

I got the bill for my homeowners insurance recently and got very confused. There’s the usual — dwelling coverage and personal property coverage — but then there was a charge for earthquake coverage — that part threw me. “This is a dad question,” I thought. Only, my dad wouldn’t be helpful. He’s a life-long New Yorker and doesn’t know from earthquakes. Plus, he just turned 80. …

Most of my married friends hate their husbands right now. One says her husband is lazy and leaves his dirty laundry on the floor…. one is bothered by her husband’s “extra-curricular” activities which on one particular weekend included a raucous boys night out followed by a hazy hangover ….and another friend complains that she just hates the way her husband answers his phone with a “Hi-ya!”

I don’t have the luxury of hating my husband because I’m a widow. …