cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Decades ago, I went grocery shopping after the funeral of a dear friend who had died much too young and way too swiftly. His tragic death left one of my closest friends without a partner and their young children without a father. Arriving home after the funeral, I was anxious, emotionally untethered, and in need…
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As I decorated for Christmas this year, I cleaned and put up the lights, mason jars of holly and frosted tree branches thinking about the juxtaposition of all the places my heart could choose to land.
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Growing up is hard.
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My dining room table has been covered in glitter and stickers and construction paper and glue for the past several days.
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“It will go away, and you’ll feel better”, everyone kept telling me.
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I was fourteen years old when I had my first boyfriend.
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