Jul 26, 2021
Finding a Face for My Invisible Illness
I could only acknowledge my thyroid condition from sly, sideways angles—a hobbit stealing from a sleeping dragon’s hoard.
It was the first time I’d ever noticed growth or newness this way: reclaiming, or returning, rather than overhauling and chasing.
Squirrels are violent maters. I thought about that as metaphor, but I’ve already written that kind of essay, that story.
The trick to a good nostalgic curry rice is to finish it with honey. Just a drizzle at first.
