Dear Shabby-Chic-bedspread-that-I-love, I must first say thank you. There, that is a good way to start this. Thank you. This is a love letter. And love letters should always start with gratitude. Thank you for being the perfect shade of green. A green not to minty and not too leafy but somewhere in the middle.… Continue reading Old joy, still joy; an ode
Tag: memory
Science and Magic
There is all sorts of ways to pray; for me my favorite has always been Vespers. I love to sit in a church smelling of incense and listen to music. To not have to respond with anything but my breath. It's low commitment, to just listen but being present seems to be the greatest gift… Continue reading Science and Magic
A Season of us
When I was a little girl there was a field behind my house that separated the neighbourhood from the rushing water of the Jones Falls and all that lay beyond. The field is still there behind the house although the little girl has grown much taller now. The field, which my young (and even then-romantic)… Continue reading A Season of us
A memory, a hope.
I wake up. The sun is coming through the sheer curtains on the window in the hall very brightly, and downstairs I hear the faint “beep” of the microwave. Outside it is already hot even though it’s nearly 9:00 in the morning. The cicada’s sing in even waves like the surf hitting the shoreline. A… Continue reading A memory, a hope.
The terror, the comfort
Time has passed and that tree outside my window that swayed so gently in the Summer breeze is now bare branched. If you look closely enough you can almost see the tiny buds about to come forth into the Spring. Reaching outward. March is a literally that--a physical action forward in specific time with a… Continue reading The terror, the comfort
Falling in Maine
To combat the loneliness, I walk slowly. When I get to my apartment I know what I will find when I enter; dishes that need washing, my yoga mat half rolled up and the quiet punctured only by the hum of the fridge. I’ve taken to peeking into the windows of the neighboring houses from… Continue reading Falling in Maine
foggy words
I don't know how to blog. This set up seems more to me like I am about to write a term paper instead what I want it to be---an unraveling of my soul. Or something. I always mean to unravel myself in front of people but when the opportunity arises I back off, share just… Continue reading foggy words
And Oh! The songs you would sing!
When I was eight, I remember laying flowers on my Grandfather’s grave—my mother’s father—for Christmas—a somber family ritual. My grandmother stood next to me and said: “You never know when God will call you home to tend to his garden.” And she pointed upward towards the sky and raised her eyebrows the way she often… Continue reading And Oh! The songs you would sing!
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