handfasted to truth

Thirty One Years Ago I can still remember the raw pain of losing my sister. The pain lives in memory and is no longer an active throbbing,...

It has been a long time since I have told my story. Life has a way of being full and making extras like writing feel hard to find time for. ...

When I think of Nick’s death, I think of his wife who was driving the boat. The way she dove into the water. Over. And over. The panic she ...

I am picking her up from work. She gets in the car and closes the door. “Hi, how are you?” I ask. “I had a hard day...

I came home from witch camp with some new promises: I promise to write more. I promise to dance more. I promise to take better care of t...

So, about living.   Turns out, it feels more complicated to me than dying does.   Turns out, I have endless possibility in front of me th...

He held my face in his palms.   He does that when having my attention is of utmost importance.   He learned about eye contact in school.   ...