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I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.

Aimee Bender

That she might not actually know us seemed the humblest thing a mother could admit.
AIMEE BENDER

Actually Admit Humble might Mother Seem She
Language is the ticket to plot and character, after all, because both are built out of language.
AIMEE BENDER

Built Character Language Out Plot Ticket
But the sky is interesting, it changes all the time.
AIMEE BENDER

All Change Interest Sky Time
I could feel the tears beginning to collect in my throat again, but I pushed them apart, away from each other. Tears are only a threat in groups.
AIMEE BENDER

Again Away Beginning Each Groups Other Tear Throat
To see someone you love, in a bad setting, is one of the great barometers of gratitude.
AIMEE BENDER

Barometer Gratitude Love Setting Someone
If 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 BENDER

Break Clean Cry Everything Happen Lose Normal Order Parent Progressive Walk
I knew if I ate anything of hers again, it would lkely tell me the same message: help me,
AIMEE BENDER

Anything Ate Bottle Help Likely Meal Message Same Tell
I felt the crumpled paper that had taken the place of my lungs expand as if released from a fist.
AIMEE BENDER

Expand Fist List Lung Paper Release Taken
Large meadows are lovely for picnics and romping, but they are for the lighter feelings. Meadows do not make me want to write.
AIMEE BENDER

Feeling Lighter Lovely Meadow Picnic Romp Writing
It is so often surprising, who rescues you at your lowest moments.
AIMEE BENDER

Lowest Moment Rescue Surprise
I admired that stride; it was like he folded space in two with it.
AIMEE BENDER

Admire Fold Like Space Stride Two
We’re all getting too smart. Our brains are just getting bigger and bigger, and the world dries up and dies when there’s too much thought and not enough heart.
AIMEE BENDER

Bigger Brain Dry Heart Smart Up World
It 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

After Birthed Fleet Help Homework Kiss Love Pour Statement
Mom loved my brother more. Not that she didn’t love me – I felt the wash of her love every day.
AIMEE BENDER

Brother Daughter Day Every Lover Mom More She
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 BENDER

Appreciate Flaw Kid Later Life Mess Parent Seem Strong
Pouring over me, but it was a different kind, siphoned from a different, and tamer, body of water. I was her darling daughter; Joseph was her it.
AIMEE BENDER

Body Darling Daughter Different Kind Pour Siphoned Tamer Water

I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.

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I am the drying meadow; you the unspoken apology; he is the fluctuating distance between mother and son.

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Popular Authors

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