cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Once upon a time there was a girl named Sunny. They called her Sunny because of her golden hair and smile and the way she would light up a room when she entered. And the light emanated from her, and the light was good. Sunny’s mother was named Gilda. Gilda had discovered when she was…
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*This post is from a sexual abuse survivor; it may be triggering for some readers. This is my Red Tent truth, my Red Tent story. This is and was “The Mother” in my life. The person who birthed me, whose publicly portrayed image I adored, but whose private reality would horrorify any humane person. I…
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An older gentleman with a white beard and plaid button down shirt was standing at the entrance as I pulled into the parking lot that crisp January morning. He was yelling and waving pamphlets at me telling me to stop. As a young girl, I went with my Grandparents and held signs in protest while they screamed…
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I think it probably started off broken. I know it was over two days of a labor of love, constant pain and effort. A little bit of drama and questioning of WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO HARD. Ending with a cry of relief and fear. If I could time travel, I think that’s…
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