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…

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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…

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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.

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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…

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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…

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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…

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Back to each other.

I grip the steering wheel of the parked car, working up the nerve to cross the lot and enter the bar. The doors of my jetta hold me in. I can stay here forever, till I choose to spill out and into whatever the night holds. Already, the setting sun floods the scene before me,…

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Garden Truths: What a pair of hedge trimmers has to say about life.

There’s an ache to my lower back as I stoop and stretch for the next dead branch with my hedge trimmers. Waste bins and brown recyclable bags checker yards up and down the street.  Interspersed between each bin, neighbors gather dead things, heaving last year’s baggage away so summer can begin again.  Together our bodies…

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Women drawn to the sacred.

When Red Tent Living began, I don’t think any of us knew what awaited us. What we did know back in those early days was that sharing our faith as women felt stifled. There wasn’t an overarching community that welcomed our experiences as women and our experiences of faith. In Red Tenting Living, our hope…

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In Between The Milestones

It’s not often that as a year begins, I can already name the major milestones the coming months will hold. This spring, I will be moving so my landlords can sell their property. Not too long after that, I’ll transition from course work in my graduate degree to writing my graduate thesis. My boyfriend and…

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