i prefer the darkness of a sunrise.

it is forgiving. non-judgmental.

it allows me to feel how i feel most mornings.

childless. motherless.

the guilt that comes along with it.

i remember all of my dreams.

in them i do everything differently.

write my history differently.

i erase losing loved…

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“Dad, I tested positive for COVID.”

“What?”

“Dad, I cannot come Christmas Eve.”

In the tradition of my Italian culture, fish is eaten on Christmas Eve. This would be the first Christmas Eve my dad ever hosted without my mom.

He was proud when he told me he found the…

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--

i am not sure when

i stopped breathing

i was so good. for so long.

taking a deep breathe in

1.2.3.4.

my lungs filled with air

unlike decades ago.

camel cigarette smoke for as long

as i could hold it.

breathe out circles slowly.

i felt a warm buzz that…

--

--

i can finally sit in a place that honors you mom.

not the 6-roommate house with a dirty couch

even dirtier carpet.

you never got to see it.

i use your memory

in the way i keep this place

the way i shop for bargains at marshall’s.

the way i…

--

--

i finally whisper these words to myself

“i will die someday.”

i could never imagine in my 50 years that i would say that.

i finally did. just a few days ago.

i realized i will probably die after my 82 year old father who relies on our 7:30 am…

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adriana suriano

adriana suriano

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.