Casting Out Fear

Nestled on my favorite side of the couch with a well-worn quilt on a quiet Saturday, I make quick work of the book on my lap. I haven’t read A Wrinkle in Time since childhood, and the plot has grown dim over the years, yet I still vividly remember my fascination with the story. I don’t…

Read More

When I Can’t Feel Christmas

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.” — Pierre Teilhard de Chardin 5:34 p.m. on Black Friday and everything was right on schedule. The tree was set up, lights lit, and boxes of ornaments ready for unpacking. Jim Carrey’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas played in the background, as was tradition, and Mom had just slid the…

Read More

Craving Confidence: How Lonely It Sometimes Feels to be Certain

A little over a month ago, at a modest cabin near a gurgling creek, I spent a weekend with a mishmash of friends. It’s the second year we’ve gathered in this humble wonderland where we cook and play games, talk late around the fire, and make ourselves tired on sunshine and laughter.

Read More

If Life Was a Food Fight

My critical eye takes in my form in the long oak-framed mirror as I tuck the billowy white top into my jeans. On principle, I don’t wear white. “White” is my lunch, make-up, and pit stains on display for the world to see. It’s impracticality, stamped with an expiration date.

Read More

Shattered Glass and Peonies

As I walk each afternoon, unplugged for just a moment from the news ticker and the marching, the masks and the hand sanitizer, I see the peonies spill over the edge of sidewalks in my neighborhood. I can’t help but stop to take them in: their smell and explosive petals. Peonies remind me that lovely…

Read More

The Quiet Hope of Quarantine

There’s something about the whole world choosing together to be alone. Like a kind of permission, or a moment of tag—“It” has finally caught up to you after you tried running so far and so long, and now, tired and exhausted, you have a chance to turn and accept what is, to become It, to…

Read More

How to Be Friends: A Semi-Successful Guidebook

She was radiant. Ruby red lipstick, a thin gold chain around her neck, and hair touched with the slightest curl—the kind that only come when you’ve stopped trying to fabricate them.

Read More

On the Yoga Mat.

Beads of sweat roll down my face, dripping into a pool beneath me. I hold my body aloft from my forearms, belly tight, feet flexed toward the back of the room, palms gripping my mat and upper arms starting to shake. “Now, raise your hips high in the air and begin to walk your feet…

Read More

Born of the desert

The desert has a distinct feel, one that makes each pore of your body gasp. I forget, as years pile up between visits, what this feeling is. It takes a couple of days to reacquaint myself with the arid mountains, weathered cacti, and unrelenting heat. But then, amidst misters and tank tops, I once again…

Read More

On the subject of love, legs, and femininity.

Hairy kneecaps. The first time my body became “my body”—a thing separate from me—was at 6thgrade lunch period when Valerie Warner informed me Pete Harris would never date me because I had hairy kneecaps. She’d asked him about me, and his answer, given in the presence of the other 7thgrade boys, had been, according to…

Read More