I drove by that hospital that told us we had been pregnant. There was a lot, like a horrific stab wound, amount of blood in the toilet. She cried for days. I was at her side for the entirety of it, and I know my support, rookie style for a new situation, and I fell short of the comfort required by her needs. She got through it, though. She’s tough like a turtle and her aura radiates a positive shine like the bliss of summer days. People showed her tremendous care and compassion. It was surreal, they didn’t ask me much, as to my point of view, and I’ve never discussed it, and the whole thing was an experience I never had before – I think about it, the loss. It hurt her so much, and days roll on, and there’s an ache, something I can’t explain, and I don’t even know if this pain is real, but I feel broken in the soul of my core.
Nicholas Viglietti
Nicholas Viglietti is a writer from Sacramento, CA. Katrina ripped the gulf coast up, and he rebuilt homes there, for 2 years. Up in Mon-tucky, he cut trails in the wilderness. He pedaled from Sac-town to S.D. He’s a seventh-life party-hack, attempting to rip chill lines in the madness