Many kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
AIMEE BENDERMany kids, it seemed, would find out that their parents were flawed, messed-up people later in life, and I didn’t appreciate getting to know it all so strong and early.
AIMEE BENDERIf everything kept to its normal progression, we would live with the sadness-cry and then walk-but what really breaks us cleanest are the losses that happen out of order.
AIMEE BENDERMy eyelids are my own private cave, he murmured. That I can go to anytime I want.
AIMEE BENDERThis is why everyone who eats a Whopper leaves a little more depressed than they were when they came in. Nobody cooked that burger.
AIMEE BENDERAs a writer you ask yourself to dream while awake.
AIMEE BENDERand I get refill number three or four and the wine is making my bones loose and it’s giving my hair a red sheen and my breasts are blooming and my eyes feel sultry and wise and the dress is water.
AIMEE BENDERThe stories themselves haunt, they stick around, they linger, inhabiting a little corner of the reader’s brain and resurfacing to evoke mystery or sadness or longing.
AIMEE BENDERBut what I kept wondering about is this: that first second when she felt her skirt burning, what did she think?
AIMEE BENDERShe is the first gesture that creates a quiet that is full enough to make the baby sleep. My genes, my love, are rubber bands and rope; make yourself a structure you can live inside. Amen.
AIMEE BENDERI was with them for all of it, but more like an echo than a participant.
AIMEE BENDERGlen Hirshberg’s stories are haunting, absolutely, but not only because of the content.
AIMEE BENDERWhile she cut the mushrooms, she cried more than she had at the grave.
AIMEE BENDERBut the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
AIMEE BENDERMy lover is experiencing reverse evolution.
AIMEE BENDERIt is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
AIMEE BENDERIt was a fleeting statement, one I didn’t think she’d hold on to; after all, she had birthed us alone, diapered and fed us, helped us with homework, kissed and hugged us, poured her love into us.
AIMEE BENDER