Is This Me?

Is this me, it asks. Stumbling forward, searching for something long forgotten, breaking the silence that reigned here.

Tiny

I see it in the small things. Sometimes it shines through the cracks of the day, startling me with its very presence. Mended will never be new, but knowing full way its cracks carry the imprints of life lived, it will never seek to be. All it seeks is now small, found in the fullness of one tiny moment.

On Beauty: A Letter to my Daughters

Dearest daughters, You are so young, only five and two, and so blessedly contained inside the safe square that makes up your world. On the beach, you shed your clothes in seconds, concerned only with skipping to the water in as few steps as possible. When you get dressed in the morning, your main objective... Continue Reading →

In Weakness Veritas

When I am able-bodied and strong, it is easy to create the illusion that I and those I love could exist in a vacuum. Nothing could be further from the truth. As humans, we are little jigsaw pieces of a hugely complex society, each performing a task so that the next person won't have to.... Continue Reading →

The Miracle of Child

On my most forgetful days, I catch myself staring at my children wondering how they could possibly come out of nothing. Pregnancy nausea, heavy belly loads, overdue due dates, marathon births and post-partum recovery are parked at the very lowest level of my consciousness as I marvel at the miracle of life. Sharing a particularly... Continue Reading →

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