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The perfect homesighs at nightweary from the day I can hear mine groaningremembering the mud-tracked feetdozens of children finding their waypast the front doorinto light-filled roomsleaving only specks of dirt and traces of laughter in the walls The perfect homeis one that simply isn’t perfect at allbecause it knowsperfection is the enemy The perfect homeasks… Continue reading The perfect home

I found out todaythat Alba hums a little songevery time she misses mein school, on car rides, seconds before shutting her eyes It’s just a few notesstrung together perfectlyinciting a memorya reminder of me What if I’m meantto follow her leadinstead of my tired roleof a persondoing an impressionof someone who knows it all She’s… Continue reading To my wildflower

I’m no good yetat being the new me. Strings from old spiderwebsattach themselvestangling up and slowing downthe forward motion. The past finds meand reminds meof the grooves of old patternsmeant to define me. Where do I go from here?How do I make sure to never abandon myself again? I find I am oftensimply alonequestioning every… Continue reading No good

I don’t know if I’m removed enoughor ever will beto shareprecisely how I got here today. I sit in disbeliefremembering suddenly where I amexactly eight months to the daywhen my life became a rugripped out violently from underneath me. Like the trickwhere a tablecloth is yanked outfrom underneath plates and cupsnothing shifting. But it’s not… Continue reading Arriving

I turned 39 on Tuesday. My dad, whose tried-and-true role is listening in the background of phone calls to the recounting of my chaos, chimed in on my birthday to remind me that he was 39 when I was born. At 39, he welcomes the last of his five children. At 39, on this impossibly… Continue reading 39

We spend so much of our time and energyplacing expectations on others What if weused our precious time on earth insteadto look within? Would we be scared of what we’d find?Would it too closely resemble what we’re trying to change about everyone else?Would it be too ugly to face? What if westood bravely and confronted… Continue reading What if we

How dare I be brave and liberated?That’s not what I was made for.I arrived on this earth as a surprisesoft and sweettaught to be paper thin, amenable, and quietclutching a hand full of compliments and doling them out generously like trick or treat candy. Treat others with kindness above all else.Trick yourself into thinking it’s… Continue reading This is you.

If you could simply reach out and touchall the words left unsaidI’d implore you to gather them up as secret treasures. Take them home and sort them out. If you do, I imagine you’d find the meaning of life splayed out neatly and concretely on your floor. Among the words we never say, each of… Continue reading Words left unsaid

Joy: I’ve been side stepping and evading your touchknowing full well I’m not worthy of your true power. You’ve sought me out, on occasion, revealing a sense of lightness.But, what joy could I possibly allow within me following a sister snatched too soon? She’s not here, nor there. She can’t hear me anymorebecause she left… Continue reading One-way conversation

I don’t often feel grateful for the situation I’m in. Normally I’m in a dizzying storm of exhaustion twisted up with feeling multiple emotions at the same time while trying to put on a normal, appropriate face around others when it’s all brewing inside me. Sometimes I’ll dare to admit, “I’m just not feeling right”,… Continue reading The gift of gratitude