Category: Uncategorized
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I have a super hero ability. I can disappear. Unaware, I can change from girl to ghost. Gone. Left alone where someone was supposed to be. Silly expectations.
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She was never a house I built to keep. she was a season passing through my hands. A wild spring bird resting on my windowsill, borrowing my sky before learning her own. I counted years like I had endless summers, not knowing motherhood was a suitcase packed in slow motion. Now her silence drifts like…
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She came with hazel eyes — both earth and spring,With emerald light no shadow could destroy; Her name means purity awakening,Her middle name a breath of living joy.and Behind her hazel eyes lives my whole heart. Happy 23rd, precious daughter. Happy Mother’s Day to all. 🌻
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She was a quiet hearth set in the center of a wide, weathered house, a fire that never demanded to be seen yet warmed every wandering guest who crossed the threshold. Her heart moved like a deep, gentle well, lowering its bucket again and again for thirsty travelers, never counting the cost of the water.…
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in a wide and quiet house where the walls stood tall but never leaned in to listen. There were dreams of what was promised; of swimming in pools of tangible togetherness only to find that secluded dry land was more suitable. The acres like secret friends, there were fields that knew his footsteps better than…
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I am the third chair at a candlelit dinner for two. Just close enough to feel the heat of not being needed. Two glasses lean toward each other, their laughter braiding like ivy, while mine holds untouched water reflecting a ceiling no one else sees. I am the trio note in a duet, hovering just…
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There was a winter that would not end. Ice in the veins. Silence in the bones. A heart beating, but not living. She thought herself useless because pain had wrapped her hands in frost and told her she was nothing but the echo of her own mistakes. But God does not waste winter. Beneath the…
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She set her heart like a lantern at the edge of a long dark road, polishing the glass with trembling hands, believing light could call someone home. Twice she opened the door to summer— twice the wind walked through her. Love came like a ship at dusk, then slipped its anchor, choosing the quiet of…
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She learned music the way some children learn devotion by watching her father’s hands. At first memory she studied the way sound leaned in toward him, how a piano softened in his presence, how songs seemed willing when he asked them to speak. She wanted to do everything like him, right down to the way…
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The truth that the grass isn’t always greener.
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I remember you first as sunlight, you reflected off of your father’s face the first time we met. Brown-round. Warm sunshine, Sweet hair catching it, skin warm as August, your Dobby-laughter filling the rooms of our home that felt permanent back then. We were a circle—your father, you, me— hands linked, only tiny cracks that…
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Ten years ago today, she tuned her guitar in the passenger seat, strings humming like nerves, like hope. He smelled faintly of pine and cold air, a boy who knew dawn by heart, who could stand perfectly still and listen until the woods spoke back. She talked in melodies, hands always moving, as if the…
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While preparing my chicken Parmesan, this reminder and reflection came to me: came to me. Blended families are not for the faint of heart and it is tough to lose a long-standing identity and be the new-old girl. In the midst of a life that I feel I moved into, recognizing anything that is my…
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In the last moments of her brief four-day stay, she spent most of her time in our arms, and I spent all her time praying she’d stay, then with grace, anticipating her departure almost with a jealous sorrow; my daughter was about to awake to the sight of the King of Kings. I felt the…
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