Threads
how comforting it is to think about what our children and others will carry forward from their experience with us. The threads they’ll pull into their future, threads that weave deep into our histories.
What We Say in Our Head
What makes you simultaneously cringe and lean further into a story? What is happening when you say, “Nooooo…” as the story unfolds? What are the beautiful speeches, conversations, and comebacks that you rehearse in your own head—the ones that, if spoken, might just begin to set the world right?
I Am a Writer
We draw up what waits for us there. Stories, memories, secrets, questions.
The pail rises dripping our truths, our eyes darting with wonder, breath still with surprise, hands electric holding the rope—the tether connecting us to something deeper than certainty.
This is me.
I really am a writer.
Happy Birthday Blog to my Middle Child
A path of light cut through the space between us. I could feel the connection, the trueness of the moment, the light she already carried.
Those are, and have always been her gifts: connection, integrity, and light.
Unfolding
I’m not close
and I am in the unfolding.
Close and far,
immediate and removed.
We are unfolding
without each other,
with each other.
Impulse Vs. Intuition
This was definitely an impulsive, not intuitive, click.
I’m busy this weekend. And after browsing the judges’ bios and headshots, I felt my deep-South, middle-aged white-woman tethers tightening around me.
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