cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Stretching my legs in the gas station parking lot somewhere along I-70 East, I had never felt so lost in my entire life. Not lost in terms of directions. Lost on a deeper level. Age 24 and along for the ride as my parents headed to a week on the Atlantic Ocean with both of…
Read More
A few years ago, my father posted a Facebook post telling the cyber world that he had met the last love of his life. He explained that he had been allowed to love five women over his lifetime, and this woman was the last of his great loves. I remember staring at the confession on…
Read More
February hits in muted grey Paired with sunless mornings. We beg for reds and pinks In heart-shaped clouds And warm winter drinks.
Read More
In honor of the tenth anniversary of Red Tent Living, we are featuring a monthly legacy post written by one of our regular contributors from the past decade. Anna Williams is one of our original writers. Her voice helped shape Red Tent Living as she brought the perspective of a single young woman. This post…
Read More
The spring before I found out I was pregnant with my first child I was at a craft fair with my best friends. I came across a booth that was selling baby girls clothing. There was this lace dress. It was frilly and girly and perfect. I bought it. I wasn’t pregnant yet. We weren’t…
Read More
I have a memory of belonging, of feeling at home.
Read More
“What is pride, if we can have love shown to us instead?” I exhaled as I heard someone speak those words on a podcast. My pride is in my ability to do everything alone and not to need anyone.
Read More
As the days ticked by until my wedding, morning twilight frequently found me sitting in pajamas with red spectacles and a messy bun, sipping from a large mug of coffee not quite large enough. October arrived, and my days kept starting earlier, often before sunrise as a random thought tied to the coming festivities stirred…
Read More
Ash Wednesday. A chalked smearing of celebration tasted—now absent, ached for, and anticipated.
Read More
“Have you tried online dating?”
Read More