To Agnes, the Patron Saint of Women’s Hair

When the Securitate would enter our house, my sister and I would hide in the bathroom, the one where the tile and commode and even the porcelain tub was pink, and tell each other stories. There was the story of the gypsies who kidnapped fair-headed children like ourselves, cut off a hand or foot, then…

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The Romance of Friendship

Long before I knew romance with a boyfriend, I learned how to love, and love intensely, from my friend Ashley. “You are my SPNQ (SPOH-neek),” we would say to each other. It was code for “I love you,” invented some silly night at a girls’ retreat when we were maybe 15, 16 years old. It…

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The Tent.

Brave On was a safe space for my heart to rest and to shift.  Who knew there could be a place with (gasp) a bunch of Christian women that also carried the adjective “safe”?!

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Life Lost, Love Gained

“You should never be a mom.” “You would be a horrible mother.” Not sure the number of times I heard these lines through my childhood, but it was often enough that these words took root in my life and grew deep.

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Crossing the Bridge

I could barely understand her in between the heaving sobs and the words tumbling out quickly, but I did catch enough to know she was alone and feeling unseen and unwanted.

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