The Ghosts in Our Blood
The medium sat down on the twenty-year old loveseat in my living room. She settled in like an old friend, without looking around, without working to read the weight of my eyelids, the twitch of my mouth.
...morePosts by: Rebecca K. OConnor
When Barbara Jean Was Missing
“You are the closest thing I have to a mother,” she said. My mother said this to me, her oldest daughter, me, the only one of her four children unlikely to give her grandchildren. I am forty. I am single. I never wanted to be anyone’s mother.
...moreWhat We Lost When We Lost Barbara Jean
This is the truth. Around noon I gulped a shot of tequila and then placed a chair in my closet, sat down, shut the door and put my .22 rifle in my mouth. It didn’t fit well. The scope got in the way of positioning the barrel for a shot through my brain.
...moreSongs of Our Lives: You Are Not Me, Inlandia
I hate Dave Grohl. This is purely professional, of course. I hate that he and his Foo Fighting pals manage to produce relevant and irresistible art prolifically. I hate that they all have embraced growing older, but are still so obviously having fun.
...moreRebecca K. O’Connor: The Last Book I Loved, Tapping the Source
It’s never too late to read a book you should have read when you were 21, or to find a lost love or to realize that everything is interlinked and woven tight and turns back on itself. I say this even though I only just figured it out last month when a lover 15-years-lost and […]
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