Eleanor Dushin
on the train home [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | October 25Every holiday, I take the same train home. Even though I live in a tiny town, the Amtrak stops 12 minutes away from my house. I know all the stops along the way: New London, Mystic, Westerley, Kingston, Providence. Something is a bit different every time—the snow is fresher, more trees have fallen, ...
i'm not sure why i'm crying [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | September 18TW: substance abuse
i'm trying to tell you [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | March 6I walked with a friend into a wooded area behind Young Orchard, my heart beating too fast from hearing seven people talk about internships for an hour. I don’t smoke, but watching my friend smoke a cigarette had a vicariously calming effect on me. I kicked around a stick and took deep breaths as they ...
resonating with silence [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | February 7Last spring, I paced around CVS near closing time and then called a guy I barely knew to go on a walk. After walking through the sharp cold of the lingering winter, we ended up in a lecture hall in 85 Waterman, where we sat in the front row and got to know each other. Every time he asked me a question, ...
am i still your type? [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | November 15Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time with the people who love me. I watch the date change on my phone as 11:59 turns to midnight, wondering which day they’ll decide that I’m not their type of person anymore. I think I’ve found my people: they know me, they love me, and they make this ...
hours were the birds [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | September 27In August, it rained for two weeks straight. I had only packed one sweater for a two-month internship, and the threads were thinning out at the cuffs. It was 1:30 a.m.—the latest I had stayed up all summer—and I sat in the corner of my host family’s guest bedroom. I held the fading knit fabric ...
romanticization and its consequences [A&C]
By Eleanor Dushin | April 20I sat in my dorm’s communal kitchen painting my friend’s nails. It was mid-first semester and the heat hadn’t turned on yet, so it was uncomfortable to wear anything less than a sweatshirt. Every time I finished a nail, my friend would lift his hand close to his eyes to examine the quality of ...