cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I was first a daughter who was born to a beautiful young mother near Sarita Vihar, India. My First Mother loved me deeply, and she called me hers. I was then an Orphan, as I was unjustly separated from her arms. I never knew my First Father’s face or arms, and for that I grieve.…
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“Crown or no crown, you’re still a queen to me.” I read these bold, black words in a small card with a picture of a silver glitter crown on the cover. My friend, Desire—my coworker and fellow sorority sister—left this card for me at our work. It was a sweet gift: we had just learned…
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A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose… Look at little children in kindergarten. They’re all different without trying to be. As long as they’re unconsciously being themselves, they can’t help but shine. –Marianne Williamson On the last week of kindergarten, with parents and grandparents present, our daughter’s…
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A few nights ago I sat, mesmerized, along with Steve and my nephew Andrew, as we watched the violinist Midori float above the Colorado Symphony Orchestra.
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