cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“I hate my life,” I cried to my husband. “How can this be my life? How did I get here?” He, in his kindness, began to make suggestions: “Why don’t you go on a trip? Or why don’t you go on a drive? Book a massage?” But inside, there was an inner knowing. I love…
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“What is grief if not love persevering?” — Vision (WandaVision, ep. 8) The cardboard box near my feet is worn. Across the top the words “family pictures—basement” tell me it was packed as we consolidated things in our Michigan basement before moving to Austin. The box holds about eight large-size Ziplock bags stuffed full of…
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Before meeting my husband, Chris, I was not in the habit of initiating “hello’s”, other than the necessary ones when answering the phone.
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