I’m baking a Funfetti cake for Evaline’s 2nd birthday. I set the timer for five minutes. In five minutes, because our house is uneven, I will open the oven and spin the cake then set the timer again to remind myself to spin it back,… Read More
We talk about variety, the good and the bad, the healthy and the less healthy. We talk about why fresh is better than processed, about what makes the soft light-as-air slices of packaged bread different from the denser loaves with sharper crusts and chewy insides… Read More
Change. I always thought that I loved it. A fresh coat of a paint. A hair cut. New home. New job. New clothes. New experiences. New. New. New. New on every superficial plane is acceptable, exciting even. New and on my terms, within my will,… Read More
Best friends are the ones you play with the most, I overhear Lila explaining to Asher over bowls of Cheerios this morning. I love kindergarten simplicity. I love that sharing a snack or playing beside someone in the toy kitchen at school somehow transforms your… Read More
I went to my uncle’s funeral last night. Unlike the last two funerals I have been to, for the same family, in the past year and a half, last night felt like closure and peace. My uncle was ready. It’s not that he wasn’t a… Read More
It starts with a seed. On the final stretch home after an early evening of running errands, Alex (who is normally quiet and distracted by books or action figures while we drive) tells me about the life cycle of pumpkins. From seeds to Jack-o-Lanterns? I… Read More
Hi, You don’t know me, we have not met. I have my undergrad in Communication Arts and my MFA in Creative Writing. I have been published in literary magazines and nationwide, but I don’t find nearly enough time for it these days. I have been… Read More
It’s twenty degrees and the girl next door is sitting in a sweatshirt on her back deck. She is smoking and watching her dog jog back and forth on his runner. I am pouring coffee and notice for the first time that she is pregnant.… Read More
I woke up this morning to the sounds of my eight year old going through his morning routine. He lets out the dog, gets her breakfast and water, lets her back in, feeds her, crates her again or sends her back outside. He pulls down… Read More
My twenty-two month old is in my bedroom, standing barefoot in a mess of her own making, squealing in gibberish. With her just-woke-up-from-a-nap hair and the smudges of cereal bar on her cheeks, she looks like a homeless, uncared for, disaster. Oh, but, her smile.… Read More
The Frozen Moon 