a_kind_of_confession kerry maybe i miss the west coast. i was certain that i wouldn't and i promised myself--just in case--that if i did feel those pangs, they wouldn't be pangs of regret but just the sting that comes along with cutting ties and trading one way of life for an entirely new one. and i swore that if i did feel any regret about leaving i wouldn't admit it to anyone. 210831 ... kerry over coffee and a shared bagel sandwich in an empty cafe i told joy that i'd been calling your phone even though you're dead. (i didn't tell her i'd left messages.) i hadn't told anyone and i was nervous about how her face might change when she heard this confession, what she might say, or perhaps even worse, what she wouldn't say. but she looked at me in a way that made it okay for me to look back at her instead of in my lap. her eyes were especially green that day. before i even finished my sentence, as i said "because one day i know i'll call and--" her face fell and she knew exactly what i meant, that eventually i'd call and hear that awful "this number you have dialed no longer..." her face looked how i imagine mine would with that phone in my hand. her shoulders seemed heavier, helpless. she looked burdened by her own empathy. we sat quietly together for a moment. if this phone number doesn't belong to you anymore, but i still remember it, does it now belong to me somehow? 210909 ... tender square kerry, i felt this, deeply. thanks for sharing your writing here, it's lovely. your story is reminding me that six months ago, i shut off my iphone 5 and it wouldn't turn back on; i lost everything, the whole phone was corrupted. i had all these saved voicemails—one from my mil singing "happy birthday" who has since passed, brighter messages from my older sisters before their lives went off the rails, random songs my younger would sing to get me to call her back, voicemails from my grandma when she still remembered how to call my phone. poof. gone. 210910 ... kerry tender square--thank you so much for your words (words about my words, and your own words). and damn that is heartbreaking. this isn't quite the same, but there are a couple of voicemails that i deleted thinking it would help me find closure or whatever, and now that that person is gone, i really regret it. voicemails have become kind of like little letters, you know? 210910 what's it to you? who go blather from