Some of the special bits of this marathon will escape the page, but this jumbled stream of marathon memory is enough. My inner writer is rubbing her word belly and already poking at my 2026 calendar: “Save those dates! We’re going back.”
Some might think I waited too long to take deep creative dive. But even winter can’t stop me writing.
she modeled the wintering, the unfurling.
And I know I can stand strong in my winter when it comes.
I write fire.
I fire words.
Words fire me.
When I read these words about today months, even years, from now, I’ll remember the places I turned and the spots of shade as I mowed, the flood of unsettling and grounding memories of Mom mowing these yards, and the tissues of my heart fraying and knitting at once knowing how quickly things slowly change. How lucky am I, capturing life’s moments with words?
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