cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I walk into the office, sit, and face my therapist. The books behind her chair are neatly arranged in their same places. We exchange our familiar greetings. I try to speak. Her face fades, and I see pink water dancing on broad palm leaves. Giggles from small children echo. I hear my wily brother. He…
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When our neighbors bought the house next door nearly a decade ago, my parents quickly provided an account of this couple as if in warning. My folks were “in the know” because the new home owners were relocating from the townhouse development in which they lived just a half-mile away. Apparently this couple received multiple…
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When I was a little girl, I had a best friend. He called me “Little Princess.” His hugs were protective. His smile was warm. He adored me and I adored him. We loved each other, and we both knew it. There was pure delight between us when we interacted. Then, one day, he moved away. Far away. I went from…
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I am crumpled up on my kitchen floor, head in hands, hiding beneath a soundtrack of Fernando Ortega and Bifrost Arts, hoping my kids don’t notice I am weeping, It’s holy ground, but it feels like falling apart.
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Today I saw a caterpillar smashed on the sidewalk. She met her demise before she met her destiny. Sometimes, I want to be that caterpillar. Pleading that my life might somehow end. This desire for eternal rest comes because emptiness has found her way back to me again. I try relentlessly to fill her but…
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“Seriously? Again? Now?!” I frequently hear myself exclaiming these words in exasperation and despair.
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