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The fifth Mother’s Day without you
Posted on May 13, 2018 Leave a Comment
Some years, Mother’s Day feels like a speed bump. Others, it is Everest.
64.
Posted on April 10, 2018 1 Comment
There is a laundry list of important people my mom will never meet. My editor. My new PCP. My live-in boyfriend and love of my life. Our new cat. His family. My new favorite barista. And so on.
On learning to love when you’ve lost, and how it’s only kind of like riding a bike
Posted on January 24, 2017 5 Comments
I’m scared of a lot of things. See: spiders, vest-less roller-coasters and falling out of cars mid-turn (to name a few). But, for some odd reason, I’ve never been scared of relationships, even when both history and bad television say I should be. I’ve never been afraid to give my all to another person — be […]
My one New Year’s resolution
Posted on December 31, 2015 Leave a Comment
I often wonder if death is my shtick. My sweet spot. My comfort zone. My “thing,” if you will.
My year in times I cried
Posted on December 31, 2015 Leave a Comment
What I choose to drink doesn’t change the fact that I’ve always been a crier. It’s written in my DNA. Always has been, always will be.
Moms versus Justin Bieber
Posted on December 7, 2015 Leave a Comment
My mother hated few people. Justin Bieber was one of them.
Thanks, spanx and cheesecake: An ode to November
Posted on December 1, 2015 Leave a Comment
Last November, 20 some-odd friends and I unfolded metal chairs around two beer pong tables, a snack tray and a music stand. We raised plastic cups of apple cider-sangria and cans of warm Rolling Rock while cheers-ing our inaugural Friendsgiving feast. Somewhere between (A) under-cooking the sweet potatoes with my best friend and her off-the-boat Irish mother, (B) ripping my […]
Are you there, childhood? It’s me, Meaghan
Posted on November 23, 2015 Leave a Comment
One of the hardest parts about losing both parents has been losing the memories that went with them. The stories I would ask to hear over and over again at thirteen, but couldn’t care less about come high school because I was a hormonal dick-wad with a Myspace to manage.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire: A life lessons listicle
Posted on November 17, 2015 1 Comment
A friend recently informed me that I’ve been living below the poverty line. Since blowing through my savings in a mere two-ish years on my own, I’ve had the nice, expensive Pursian rug pulled out from underneath me. The one that paved the way for lavish, week-long music festivals and all of the bar tabs I […]
Me and Sarah and the movie about the dying girl
Posted on November 9, 2015 1 Comment
Sometime this summer, I made the conscious and sober — though somewhat hungover — decision to go see “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” alone.
Meaghan McGoldrick 