Honolulu

by Tamuira Reid In the picture her hair is wet and stuck to her face. Her eyes struggle to stay open in the terrible wind and she’s clenching her teeth around a big rubber mouthpiece. One of her bathing suit straps has gone slightly askew, and a splash of sun-freckles cover her chest in constellation…

Maybe Something

by Tamuira Reid Because I am quiet. Because you are dying. Because it is night. Because the stars are out. Because fathers die. Because I will miss your hands. Because I will miss Niners games on Sundays. Because we still have more books to read. Because my son doesn’t really know you. Because memories fade.…

Neighbors

by Tamuira Reid I see him here every night around dusk. Which must mean I’m here every night around dusk. I’m sure I have shit to do upstairs – clean, pay bills, cry – but it’s a hell of a lot less depressing outside. I don’t want to be alone. We’ve never talked or touched…

12 Steps

by Tamuira Reid 1. Theresa killed a man with her car. It wasn't her fault but still. It was dark. The road was long. Oldies played on the radio. The kind of music people dance to when they think no one is watching and there is still that chance of something good happening. He hit…

4B

by Tamuira Reid The day Luna went mad her mother thought, finally. The signs had been there, hanging around at the dinner table, in the bathroom where she ironed her hair. It had waited patiently in the corner of a room, under a chair, in the oven with the bread. Now they wouldn't need to…

8 Ways

by Tamuira Reid According to an article written by Therese J. Bouchard for the site, World of Psychology, there are “8 Ways to Help Your Bipolar Loved One Cope”. 1. Educate yourself. “Education is always the starting point. Because until a spouse or daughter or friend of a manic-depressive understands the illness, it is impossible…

Take Me To Church

by Tamuira Reid Part of being a parent is being prepared for anything. Natural disasters. Snake bites. Broken limbs. Tiny fingers getting slammed into heavy drawers. Occasionally, though, I find myself caught off-guard. That moment when I realize my Survival Guide for Mothers is missing an important chapter. Case in point: Last week. The walk…

Rajasthan

by Tamuira Reid I. I stopped caring about him sometime between January and May, when the weather changed and the leaves came back. He went on that big white pill and couldn't have aged cheese or avocado and I sat at the table in the kitchen, watching him watch me. The yelling wouldn't stop until…

Lifeline

by Tamuira Reid Recently I was interviewed for a college podcast on the craft of writing. I dread this type of thing, mostly because no matter how hard I try to not sound like a complete asshole, I end-up sounding like one. Write about what you know? I guess. Write everyday? I sure don't, but…

Ten Dry

by Tamuira Reid I haven't had a drink in nearly a decade. Still think I should've gone out with more style. I chose beer to be my last drink. It was Corona. I remember because I cut my finger slicing the lime. A decade. That's ten whole years. A lot can happen in ten years.…

Deadweight

by Tamuira Reid Go because you're still holding onto the baby weight even though your baby is four. Because you have nowhere else to go today. Because you're not over him. Go because the depression is eating you alive, from the inside out. Go because you forget what happy feels like. (Go because you know…

This Is Special Needs

by Tamuira Reid It’s a hunch. It’s a diagnosis. It’s a long name that leaves you tongue-tied. It’s being horrified over the fact that PDD sounds more like an STD. It’s blaming yourself. It’s blaming his father. It’s blaming God. It’s watching a “normal” kid at the playground and wishing, for a split second, that…