cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I walk into the office, sit, and face my therapist. The books behind her chair are neatly arranged in their same places. We exchange our familiar greetings. I try to speak. Her face fades, and I see pink water dancing on broad palm leaves. Giggles from small children echo. I hear my wily brother. He…
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Complex grief is the terminology I’d use to describe my 2023. That year I was in a bad car accident, my ovarian cysts caused me to bleed for three months, my mother was diagnosed with stage four cancer and passed away within six months, I was sexually assaulted at a spa, my two-year relationship ended,…
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I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.
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