Give me mornings. Long, slow, sun-dappled mornings. White linen and cotton. Lace patterns on the hardwood. Give me the breeze of early May. Of middle October. Of the eve December. The smell of earth turning. One in birth and one in death. Both are useful in starting over, both feel chilly on the skin. Give… Continue reading A wish
Bella's new thing is to wake me up before 6:30 in the morning to go outside. She does this by scratching her little claws on the floor while she stretches. She does this by yawning louder than the air conditioner. She does this by kicking her feet against the mesh of her bed. Basically-she wants… Continue reading Bella’s new thing
Yesterday I told Jasmine I felt deeply distracted in my life. I couldn’t elaborate further; I didn’t know how. I can only say this: I feel like I am in a cavern of water. My feet on the ground, the water slowly rising. Around me are walls too slippery and too tall to climb. Above me… Continue reading The whirl-a-gig
Summer’s song is wild and sweet. Sticky and sun-kissed. Salty and slow. A dribble of peach juice. Condensation on the outside of a glass of lemonade. A faded sun hat hanging in the hall. A damp towel. A pop of a flip flop. The rustle of a turning page. The melting of ice cream in… Continue reading Solstice
Featured: The sand stretching north towards the beyond. The ocean crashing against the shore in a symphony of give and take, give and take, give and take. The welcoming sky bluing as the sun heads higher upwards. The sound of the gulls, the soft but rough sand, the salt in the air. My curls dancing… Continue reading Seen and unseen
Love falls apart so swiftly. Somehow. With the slow drip of a leaky faucet it can move from fullness to trickle. Even the sink is wet from so many droplets of consistency, day in and day-out- ness. Conversations about groceries and schedules and laundry until the silence between drips becomes longer. Then, eventually, there is… Continue reading A death knell
I write it down so I remember. Here is a letter I wrote last year (July 20th 2018) to a writer I admire and deeply resonate with. I am placing it here, so I know where the words are when I need to read them. "The humid July of Baltimore is good company for me… Continue reading So I remember…
An apartment with brown walls is a hard sell. There is nothing twinkle lights can't fix. Or a wind-chime.Love is really, really hard. (Self love, friend love, romantic love, family love. Love of all kinds.)TV is still not as interesting as a great book.Loving a dog is a process in patience. It is ok to… Continue reading The 31 lessons of my 30th year.