All I can think of is the news — the violence at our nation’s Capitol, the security breaches, the deaths, the racism on display. Worry lodges itself in my stomach while I scroll, scroll, scroll, searching for answers. The question I keep coming back to: Who have we become? My son only wants to talk … Continue reading Heroes and villains
It's raining again. Gray drenches the sky and crimson leaves confetti slick sidewalks. I sit in my orange writing chair finishing an assignment when my preschooler pretzels his body over mine, presses his face in close and demands, "Dance with me! Dance with me!"
"I just feel... trapped." I sigh this into my phone for what must be the 200th time in 2020. My therapist’s on the other line, likely sighing alongside me. She asks what’s trapping me. It isn't one thing, rather, it's everything...
Sunlight warmed her shoulders, and she felt something fluttering inside her, too. What was it, peace? Or maybe anticipation? She’d nearly forgotten the feeling.
Whenever I replay it in my mind, the scene starts here: Me at the rear car door, hovering. Him with his head craned back, stalling.
Today is my son's third birthday. We started our morning with pancakes and raspberries for breakfast, and he got to open a few presents. At school today he’ll wear a birthday hat and pass out goodies bags to his friends. When our son comes home, we'll celebrate with tacos and cake, then surprise him with … Continue reading My hopes for you
The Cut recently informed me that although some people don’t keep a diary, most of us have inboxes that serve as a “fossil record of our lives.” In other words, ancient emails are a window into our stories. Reading this, a small chuckle escaped my lips. I’d been sifting through emails the day prior for … Continue reading Lessons from 2019
For a little boy who celebrates fresh flakes with spontaneous snow angels, For his bear hugs & sloppy kisses, For the sweet taste of his remaining Halloween candy, freely given (seems like all our talk of generosity is sinking in, eh?), For building towers & bedtime stories, For every blessed time he utters, “I love you … Continue reading A prayer of thanksgiving
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
