Great Explorer

Legends are made this way. Legends are borne in the small, tiny stories, the kind that stick year after year—where there is always more to tell, but you cannot get there because this particular part is just too good.

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Is Reconciliation a Lost Cause?

I try to remind myself not to look at my phone. It’s the countdown—two minutes, five minutes, twelve minutes, twenty-five minutes. and so on. The text turns blue, reads delivered. What I want is to be pursued, known, seen. I want my pain to matter to her.

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10-Cent Ice Cream Cones

In the late Sunday summer afternoons of Eastern North Dakota, the sun is already beating its way through our Ford Pinto windows and onto the black vinyl seats we are about to gingerly put our bare skin on. There are four of us who need to get into the car and, luckily, no car seats…

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A Conversation at Starbucks

I arrive at Starbucks, sit at a small round table, and wait for the barista to call me. I ordered iced green tea–no sugar, no cream. In the afternoon, I still want caffeine but pretend to be healthier by ordering tea instead of black coffee. Besides, I don’t appreciate the bitter roast of Starbucks. It’s…

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No End in Sight

Weeks before the collective pandemic upheaval in March 2020, I found myself stepping off the Seattle-to-Bainbridge Island ferry. I am carrying a backpack chock-full of books. Some of the books are mine; others are not. Books are friends, holding words I want to remember. Piles of them are stacked in both my home and therapy…

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Bloody Noses

Angst, religion,           the entire system.  Last week a friend adding something  challenge to that system.     My anger and rage;            God knows me by name.  Surges of words             rush  forth, and lips smack them back.

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The Encounter

I lie still, my back pressed into the blankets on the summer sheets, arms clasped across my chest, eyes closed. I cross my feet. Sinking, sinking, not drowning. Gravity compels the air to form to my body, enclosing me, swaddling me. As my body floats, the bed disappears.

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Wearing A Mask

He looks at me and says, “You are just acting like a white supremacist.” I feel the knot in my throat constrict. My fists clench, unclench. His eyes are cast down. Silence ensues.

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Abel’s Blood Cries Out

The echoes of “Black Lives Matter” bounce through the car. My children cradle signs made from foam board. They speak of George Floyd, their awareness growing. A sign that says, “Mexicans for Black Lives” rests in the front passenger seat. I drive. My oldest asks, “Will we be safe at the protest?” I’ve heard the…

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Inspired by You

My sister-in-law works in the public health system in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico. She pulls babies from mothers, and puts them into their hands. OBGYN. Surgeon. Doctor. A woman of purpose, knew from the beginning, you were meant for this. Meant for this. A question of destiny? I don’t know if you believe in that, or…

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