Me and Levi, just before we got married. It continues to be a serious matter.

Me and Levi a couple weeks before we got married. At the time, I thought we were taking the picture ironically.


We were folding laundry. Tossing sock matches across the bed and talking about nothing. And then Levi says, “How old were you when you realized life was for real?” I gave him a confused look, so he rephrased the question: “How old were you when you realized you were all alone? I was about eleven.”

This is what I get for marrying a man who had his existential reckoning in the fifth-grade. I had to laugh, because of course, I had never felt all alone until this moment: when the man who says let’s be together forever also announces that he’s been all alone for nineteen years now. And he announces it like it’s some sort of cliché, like he’s saying, “You know, that time? That time we all have when solitude falls upon us as our only certainty?”

And so now I’m all stuck wondering: have I just not hit it yet, or did I marry Edgar Allen Poe’s idealogical grandson or something hilarious like that?