cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Amanda, our second born, cut the thick rye bread on a cutting board across from the sink. The remnants of the bread scattered over the counter onto the floor. I bent down to sweep up the debris, and she said, “I have always felt the weight of your perfectionism.” Annie, our firstborn, and I were…
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As the “local daughter,” once Mom’s diagnosis of metastatic pancreatic cancer was confirmed, I toggled between showing up and removing myself from the space as much as possible so that her other children could get what they wanted and needed from her dying process. Out-of-town siblings and their families visited often. Mom’s sisters and brother…
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“I think about today. I think about tomorrow. I don’t give much thought to yesterdays.” — Yellowstone Our relationship has been far from easy. Unkind words have been exchanged and mean looks used to play a part whenever we communicated, but there have also been words of love, kindness, and support followed by a hug…
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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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