It’s been weeks now, maybe months. I wake up in the dark, at two or three, and I lay. I listen to creaks of the house. I stare at the ceiling, watch the slice of light from the street lamps that comes in-between the cracks… Read More
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All posts filed under “Myself”
my soul is in the sky: On Being a Thirty-Five Year Old Rebel
I sat in a chair earlier this week, chin down, arms folded across my lap, eyes blinking between my kneecaps and the points of my orange shoes, getting my first tattoo. At thirty-five. As a mother of four. I sat and thought of…nothing, really. The… Read More
Letters To My Daughter: Touch
I didn’t sleep well last night. You came shuffling into our bedroom in the shadows, a half-asleep, half-awake, sniffling and confused body. You climbed into our bed and snuggled, wrapping your eight year old limbs up around my body. I turned away, you nestled closer.… Read More
Five Minutes
I was awake at four this morning, puttering around my home, restless. Restless soul. Restless mind. Restless heart. I read the word J O Y. It was hanging up across the room from me, nudging me into the spirit of the season in holly and jolly… Read More
The Anti-Mommy Mom
The first few months of Alex’s life, we were a stumbling mess of exhaustion and scattered hormonal reactions to Hallmark commercials and VH1 reality TV. Okay, when I say, “we” I mean “me.” I wasn’t prepared for the way that motherhood would slam up against… Read More
Holes in the Force Field
I’m sitting in the grey light of a Friday morning, at the tail end of a week when it has rained and monsoon like winds have gusted, shaking down the the final bursts of autumn color. It’s the tipping point of the year, the final… Read More
Together
It was probably about a year ago, we were sitting around our friend’s kitchen table, kids running around upstairs, us lingering in the moments between the kids settling down (hahahahahahaha) and us playing a game, and we started scrolling through housing listings on our phones.… Read More
Snowglobe
We lose ourselves, sometimes. In pieces, in moments, in the steps between up and down, in the busyness of a day or the stillness of a single minute. We lose ourselves in boxes, in vehicles, in the transition from one space to another. We lose… Read More
Missing the Middle
Asher earned his very first belt in karate last night. I’d show you pictures, except I have none. I have pictures and video of Alex and Lila receiving their orange belts, months ago. I have pictures of them, kneeling and throwing their old belts over… Read More
Help Wanted: How I’m Not a (Typical) Feminist
After a portrait session today, I pulled into a service station. I pumped my own gas, which always feels oddly empowering to me. Look at me, taking care of my car. Swiping that card and inserting that pump, even on a hot-hot-hot day in mid-July.… Read More
The Frozen Moon 