So, both Adonis and I are in the hunt for doctoral programs. He, theology. Me, Women and Gender studies.

Last night, I am mating with the GRE book, forehead pressed against the pages, bemoaning the entire system of standardized testing; wishing it all to hell. Relearning the Pythagorean theory dates me back to days where I lusted after a football boy who sat in front of me in Geometry class and did his homework for him. I was mindless in numerous ways back then.

Adonis is proofing, endlessly, his personal statement. We try to encourage one another. Lots of kisses on the nape of my neck because my face is buried in the prep book, shouting at the Satanic numbers, ordering they stop torturing me. Gentle forehead kisses and murmurs for Adonis as he struggles to write flowing descripts about the truth and passion fueling his doctoral drive.

Our professional futures are as opaque as they can be, but we’re getting through it. My cousin just wrote me, sending a reminder to be thankful for our lot in life. The lot where you can go after anything you want in the world, anything at all. The gift of education and freedom is beyond privilege, it’s a rarity of most people only dream. I’m trying to remember that as I perform exorcisms around the quadratic equations page.