Help me come clean. Listen as I confess my secret obsession, which, until recently, I had not even shared with my husband. This obsession lacks the bite of addiction; it is not destructive to myself, or others. I’m not an alcoholic, a drug abuser,
or a gambler. The obsession doesn’t compel me to dive through neighbors’ garbage
for intimate details of their lives, or spew my latest sexual adventures on a daily blog.
I don’t wash my hands thirty times a day, or cleave to rituals, though as a child I daily created and recited a mantra to ward off my fears. No, compared to others’ obsessions, mine is insignificant. It is only this: I am obsessed with “spiritual” men with beards.
Reef: A Literary Magazine and in SLAB, and is forthcoming in Hotel Amerika.
She is a graduate of the MFA in creative writing from Rainier Writing Workshop at Pacific
Lutheran University. In a former life, she practiced law.
is a writer living in Los Angeles. Her essay, “Handiwork,” earned Honorable Mention
in 2011 New Letters’ Dorothy Churchill Cappon contest. Her work has appeared in