Today I am 46. This morning broke clear and cool, like the very earth itself was saying “I knew just what to get you.” Right now the sky is a crystalline blue with cottony clouds that look like they were pasted on by an enthusiastic preschooler whose teacher left the bag of batting unattended. Green […]Read More Forty-six.
On my walk this Easter morning, I found myself thinking about my friend Sharon. She loved gardening and—I think this relates somehow—she was an Easter person. I don’t just mean that she loved Easter, which she did; but I mean that she lived it. I was thinking about her, and thinking about how I would […]Read More Alleluia.
It is Christmas Eve. Usually by now I have managed to write some sort of musing on the season amid the chaos and wreckage of dashed good intentions. Somehow this strange year is still full of chaos and dashed intentions, even though my calendar has been wiped clean of all the usual fanfare. Part of […]Read More A weary world rejoices.
There is a strange, awful fellowship at an emergency vet office at 7:00 on a Friday night. It’s like the human ER in that way. Everyone is there because something has gone very wrong in their day. Every person there is waiting for good news and nervously steals glances at the other families as they […]Read More Love is.
I have never, ever, not once been a woman who was cagey about her revealing her age. Being weird about it just has never made any sense to me. This proclivity doesn’t seem to be changing with middle age. This week, I turn 45. I will admit that when I look back at pictures from […]Read More 45.
Back in mid-March, as we began to settle into the new normal of the COVID-19 stay at home order, we decided to tackle some long-neglected landscaping projects at our house. One of those projects was transplanting two Fatsia Japonica plants from the crowded front flowerbed to an open spot we had cleared on the side […]Read More Planted.
“Everybody has their hard thing. This is yours.” These are the words I say to my child somewhere in the middle of a two hour crying jag. It is 1 am. Or maybe it is 2; I’m not looking at the clock. She came into our room at 12:30, that much I know. “I can’t […]Read More To Sleep, Perchance
It has been a month now since I have been inside of my church. I live across the street, so I see its big wooden doors and the soaring pitch of its roof every day, whenever I look outside my windows or step outside the front door. It will be so strange to look out […]Read More Communion of saints.
Eleven years ago, I began to experiment with letting other people see my writing by starting this blog. In setting up the site, one of the checkboxes asked whether or not I wanted to make this blog publicly searchable. With very little hesitation, I chose the block marked “no.” When given the option of being […]Read More The Gift That Keeps on Giving
“Mama?” The small voice in the darkness jolts me awake. I can sleep through major electrical storms, but a child’s voice from another room at night wakes me on the first try. And this child’s voice, in one form or another, has called out to me every single night but three in the roughly 2,235 […]Read More It comes in waves.