cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Alter Ego: The part of someone’s personality not usually seen by others. — Cambridge Dictionary This week I went away for five days to work on a writing project that I hope will emerge as book this year. In preparation I got some help to create a plan for how to spend my days as productively…
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Our sidewalk was long and meandered in curves as it reached from our porch to the street. It was narrow, as sidewalks were back then when everything seemed to be smaller and much simpler. Our whole yard was hemmed in by berms that could hold back a foot of water. We lived in the old…
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“You know I absolutely adore you.” His words return to me vivid and tender. An evergreen glistened with tiny white lights as raindrops pelted the brick landing of the retreat center before I boarded the airport shuttle. I picture the wild hair and dancing eyes of the kind man holding my face in his hands…
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I am still every age that I have been. Because I was once a child, I am always a child. Madeleine L’Engle This afternoon my family and I arrive at the beach for our twentieth annual trip with my parents. Soon after we unload the car and unpack our suitcases, we slip into our swimsuits…
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I grew up in a small town in Northern Wisconsin. My neighborhood was filled with tightly-spaced brick homes with mature trees flanking both sides of the street. These were the days when everyone knew everybody and children walked to and from school without care or risk. I loved the long summer days when everyone was…
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Last year, one of my clients shared an “I Am From” poem during our session. I was stunned. She invited me into a rich tapestry of precise images, many that I could taste and smell. With each image, I was brought deeper into the soil of where she’s been planted. “I Am From” poems were…
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We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. –Louise Glück A few months ago, my husband and I lay under our down comforter, which felt far too heavy for a mild Florida winter. I felt empty and bored after a long day with the kids, so I roused an argument with…
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It happened at the odd house on Greenthumb Drive. That house had the ugliest fireplace in the middle of the living room with a large pipe that hung from the ceiling, suspended by chains.
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“Loser. Creep. Stupid.” The words stung as much as the icy wind that whipped at my face.
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“We know that we are adopted by God when we are embraced by our brothers and sisters.”
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