Wednesday, July 15, 2015


 via pinterest

last week at the pool t was eating a slushy, and a little girl sat down across from us. she was probably about 7, with tan arms and wet hair in a pony. her ears were pierced and she had the cutest earrings in, her nose freckled. it shocked me how drawn i was to her, how quickly my heart felt stuck in my throat. i wanted to crawl over the table and hold her in my arms, squeeze her.

i hurt because i’m moving on and it’s healthy. i hurt because my life is an increasingly widening vortex that centered around one dark day, and now lucy’s with me all the time as i catch glimpses of light and hope and what’s NEXT. i long for her like being pregnant, every moment even if unaware.

“one day, you’ll feel better,” people said. but i think it’s up to me if this is better or not, if better ever comes. maybe it’s more accurate to say that one becomes accustomed to living with sadness, and realizes that joy can run parallel.

as tobin sucked the last of his slushy, lips blue with the dye i try not to think about too much, the girl’s mom came over. she was soft and healthy and comfortable with herself, towel around her hips–sweet to her daughter and love shown in her eyes. neither the mom nor the daughter will never know that in that moment i saw everything beautiful about both of them, that i walked away with simultaneous joy and tears from the place that makes me human.


girls weekend

Saturday, June 20, 2015


image via

kinda just a little bit nostalgic on this slow summer night in the small town, as the deep gold shadows settle. missing waking up from a late afternoon nap in a hotel bed, music on while we get ready, then happy hour and a leisurely dinner…the night still young at 10:30.

thank you timaree and erin, for being in my corner. thanks for shopping, brunching, dining, spooning, dancing all night, drinking cocktails, and just being girly and silly with me!

cheers, to the irony of hard things making it so easy to be together. cheers to truths that my ears and heart can absorb, only from a certain pair of lips–tears that are a complete communication, when understanding eyes see.

i love you both. life is heavy, but our wild and free is still alive and well!! until next time!


the floor

Friday, March 6, 2015

i have wondered many times over the past year and four months, “is worse possible?”

i half-wondered, instinct-wondered, without the interest/energy to actually play possible scenarios out in my mind (be a mother in an ebola-stricken village, a displaced Syrian? find out i have cancer? have my husband lose his job? suffer a divorce?)

i have actually said out loud that i didn’t believe in rock bottom anymore, weary and bitter.

but there came a moment about a month ago where i realized that something had changed, and i suspected that i was freed from those questions: that the worst did exist, and that i had done it. the moment felt like sitting on a floor with almost egg-like objects scattered around me, quiet emanating from their middle. everything was broken open in its truth, and there was calm.

i wondered for a moment if i was afraid anymore, and then knew i was and always will be: the worst never completely leaves, never fully turns its sear nor heals the scar. lucy’s death and the aftershocks have gradually and cruelly ground me down to that moment of calm, and i need things to get better because i can’t sustain more of the same. but there is a relief in being here. i am taken down to nothing, and now i guess i’m the kind of person who can stare out at the ocean and feel both worthy and small: whatever happens during the rest of my lifetime, nothing can take me to a place i haven’t already been.