Monday, February 10, 2020 - 4:13pm

I have a box that has followed me from one childhood room to the next. When I was seven, it rested under my bed. At 10, it moved into a room upstairs with me and onto a closet shelf. When I was 17, it wedged itself into a corner between my dresser and the wall. Now, it just sits on my desk in my apartment. Sometimes I’ll run my hand over it in the morning, or I’ll open it up when hit by a wave of nostalgia. 

Tuesday, January 28, 2020 - 3:32pm

I’ve recently noticed that when I talk to someone I’m just getting to know — a new classmate or coworker — and I tell a story that involves my boyfriend, I’ll refer to him as “one of my friends” or “this one guy.” It’s funny, and I feel a little strange after I say it, but it’s as if there’s a standard I can’t defy. This elusive standard keeps me in line with the expectation for young college women: Don’t appear too tied down, over-committed or like your relationship is the biggest part of your life.

Monday, January 13, 2020 - 11:53am

Between the first floor and the eighth, my mother lived out her dreams with another man. Those twenty seconds of elevator time stretched into an entire lifespan as I watched her look into the eyes of her silver-haired, white-linen-wearing would-be lover and imagine what would be different if he was hers, or if the two of them strode off the elevator and down the endless shoreline just outside the hotel. 

Sunday, January 5, 2020 - 6:25pm

In the August before my junior year, I scrambled to rearrange my schedule. I cold-emailed professors, begging them to let me into their classes and hopping on the waitlist of any possible course. Then I came across one called “The Catholic Novel.” The course description read: “All are welcome: religious, agnostic, atheist, non-Christian, just reading, Catholic curious, and ‘questioning.’” I considered myself Catholic-curious, but it came as a surprise that I could enroll despite being sort-of-Jewish and maybe-atheist.