This is a vignette from my newsletter.

I recently cried on a treadmill listening to the Dixie Chicks’ “Goodbye Earl.” I’d never considered the lesbian subtext of that song before — Maryanne and Wanda end up living together on a farm and selling artisanal jam after they kill Wanda’s abusive ex-husband.

I’m projecting, I know.

I wasn’t trying to. I was trying to rid you from my bones.

I went to Tucson. It was February, but the heat still hit me like a brick. It was February, but still there was a sense that nothing moved, that nothing was moving.

The stillness felt like nostalgia. Loving you has aged me.

My knees creak like a house haunted by ambition. My heart can no longer find the beat. If I could love you for a thousand more years, I think it might be enough.