First things first, you pack your hiking boots, your books, your laptop and your notebook. Make that two notebooks. Plenty of pens, six pairs of socks, underwear, toothpaste and a toothbrush. Two sweaters, four long-sleeve shirts, four pairs of pants. The readings for your workshop, hot off the printer. Cash you forgot to get cash … Continue reading How to take a writing retreat
I stand at the edge of the river, gazing out at the horizon. Azure sky and mountains and wind and sunlight surround me, threaten to engulf me. Alone on a bridge in central Washington, I listen. Rapids rush beneath me. A smattering of leaves flutter down from a distant tree. I wonder what it’s like … Continue reading Faith and doubt
Sabbatical day 5: "If you need to talk to someone, I can help with that." Her voice echoes kindness; her brow furrows. "Or I can write a prescription." I shift my eyes to avoid her gaze. The examination room is spare and spacious, yet the clean, white walls seem to be closing in. "I'm OK, … Continue reading Permission to rest
They call it the longest, shortest time for a reason, yet every time I glimpse you teetering between boyhood and babyhood, I’m startled. Like at baby Chloe’s birthday party, while she investigated her first cupcake from her high chair, you begged for a slice of watermelon cake. You licked up the green icing and tore away … Continue reading The dance
He just wanted banana bread. Eager to please and to get us out of the house, I obliged. We sat side by side in a bustling Starbucks, stealing a moment together before work and school. My son slurped apple juice and nibbled at his bread. I sipped my coffee, barely tasting it. Eyes glued to … Continue reading Banana bread, gun violence and facing the daylight
The blare of my alarm snaps me out of a dream. Eyes half-shut, I roll over to silence it, then consider my options. If I get up now, I can write. Maybe. There’s always a chance I could wake my son, a light sleeper, and lose the gift of time. Or I can sink back … Continue reading On writing through motherhood
“Wait, you still have to stay in his room at bedtime?” she asked, a hint of pity in her voice. We sharing stories and dinner in my home and my least favorite parenting topic had arisen. “Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “With all his ear infections and our failed attempts at sleep training, he just never … Continue reading Let it be love
