My Cardboard Balcony

Busy week. Been doing my transcription job, teaching, visiting the county fair, picking out a new bike to ride around town with, and watching Inside Out (which is fantastic and you should see it ASAP). And tomorrow, it's Wear My New 'Merica Tank Top And Eat Barbecued Stuff Day. So the United States is officially two hundred thirty-nine years old tomorrow, which is fairly young compared to a lot of countries. And while it's always attempted to be cutting-edge compared to said countries, there's a lot that's changed and a lot that still needs to change. Obviously, we had the landmark Supreme Court ruling that legalized same-sex marriage, but first of all, the fight is not over, and second of all, we were, what, the fifteenth or so first world country to actually legalize it? I mean, Mexico beat us to the punch, and that's a predominantly Catholic nation. And of course, there are all the issues of a dysfunctional Congress, extremist politicians, climate change de...

The Best of Times by Belinda Roddie Vanessa clocked Mark in the jaw with an actual clock.

The police claimed that they had found an illegal substance on the man's person, but they wouldn't specify as to what said substance was. Needless to say, I had my work cut out for me. I had been working with the ACLU for quite some time now, supporting various victims of a cruel and oppressive justice system as the authorities attempted to punish them, very harshly for either crimes they did not commit or crimes that did not merit such discipline. This man in particular felt crucial to me, given his role in a lot of activism carried out by black people such as himself.

This Empty House by Belinda Roddie This empty house is where I lived for more than twenty years with you - the deed was signed just days after our wedding. Here, we bore our children, and here, our stars aligned, or so I thought they did, to make our lives the best that they could ever be. Birthdays and Christmases were under this roof. Drives to vacation spots and to baseball games started from this street. On the second floor was our bedroom, the curtains always drawn, where we kept all our secrets. I long for so many more years here, but you've been gone for months now. The kids have grown up. I've tried to fix this, but our love in this house died.

"Jesus, Will!" cried Garth from his seat by the window, his eyes bugging out as he looked out over the ranch. "How many horses does your family have?" Willa smiled with flecks of bacon in her teeth as the rest of us quietly continued our meals. "Enough," she replied. "They all have names, too. My ma handles 'em better than my pa does. Ever wanna ride one?"

The Smells I Know by Belinda Roddie The sharp stab of cinnamon in my lungs as I listen to the crackling of the sugary rolls you've just baked in the oven, the aroma warm like a whiff of early autumn in our home. The unforgiving attack of spoiled fish in the garbage can outside, wet and rubbery, like slapping a briny cloth against my nose and holding it there like some sort of rotting chloroform, waiting for me to pass out first. And the odor of your pajama top that you let me keep when you've gone away - an odor that would be neutral to others, but not to me. Because in the fabric, I breathe in lavender deodorant, vanilla body wash, and the lingering spots of your shampoo. I inhale your creases and your folds, your skin and your hair, that natural perfume that wiggles into my nostrils one at a time and makes itself comfortable, but does not follow me as I fall asleep.

Did I want fries with that? Yes. I also wanted a large chocolate milkshake, a cherry cola, a container of ten chicken nuggets, and a mini apple pie. Oh, and a bag of Skittles, a chili hot dog, and a bucket of popcorn. And I couldn't forget the barbecued tenderloin, the baked potato with bacon, and a giant tub of butter for all of it. Oh, and a diet Pepsi. I was watching my weight, you know.