i’m trying to figure it out. i’m trying to understand what i’m supposed to do. am i supposed to lead? am i supposed to write? am i supposed to interpret? most likely its all of the above. and mother. and wife. deep breath. there is a ferocious unsettled spirit in my chest. it rages and
seasonal heart
these days of muted light feel just about right. sometimes my heart feels wide open, easily accessible, like the bright blue. but not lately. no, when the sun gets further away, a thin sheet of ice weathered from the events and circumstances of the year forms. the thin places turn into visible pools of murky,
frozen in time
the skin on my fingers starts to burn. being outdoors these past few days is a little like the lies i tell myself. they seem like good ideas. they can’t possibly be that dangerous. my boots step onto the snow but it doesn’t feel like snow normally does. i know what it feels like to
lack of love and the holidays
maybe your family tree is a little bit of a thicket. a gnarled bramble of fallen and crisscrossed limbs and branches. the holidays approaching might tick towards you like an unstoppable hour and put your origin story front in center in your mind. just how did you arrive on this planet? its been a weekend
slay trick or you get eliminated
this summer there was internet buzz over the near eradication of down syndrome in iceland. people wrote articles against eugenics and disability. and i agree, it is terrible, right? deciding that your child probably shouldn’t live because they may have down syndrome? i mean, geez louise. mazzy wasn’t too concerned though. she listened to a lot of beyonce this summer. last
raspberry beret
a funny thing kept happening as we walked alone in rows of raspberries. every spot we stopped to pick there would be a better one directly across the way. each time the very next row would hold larger berries, branches with fruit threatening to drop from the weight. how can it be, i wondered each
whether or not you have ever dared to pray
maybe the light at the end of the tunnel is really a lamp lit in the window. seems the largest part of my life is a grasping, a strangling, trying to make a good thing and hold on to it as tight as i can. it turns into a mist, sand, a memory and i
maybe i might love you
maybe you’re like me. maybe light has always hit friendship at a strange angle. i’ve always looked for the true friend, the real friend, the friend i could trust no matter what. and i’ve never found her. i’m watching my daughter play in the yard with her newest friend. hours of play fly by like
moms forgiving children forgiving moms
i broke ella’s tea cup. she found a set at an estate sale that was pretty perfect and upon carrying it in from the yard, it slipped from my hand. way to go, mom. its tough not to venerate your mother. to gloss over the past and the short comings and hope your own children
the great intelligence of kindness
mazzy has been busy with her high school musical. she’s been spending nights at rehearsal, putting together costume ideas and driving to the performing center right from school with friends who have cars. driving in a friend’s car. walking together out of the school to the parking lot and dropping her purple backpack onto the