Last Tuesday, I put the endless stacks of sheets into the closet. Finally. I'm resisting editing that sentence, even though I know it's a bad beginning. It's really a bad sentence in general. But I'm resisting. I want to try writing this piece all at once, badly, just to get something out. In November I… Continue reading On Clutter
My grandma can only eat unripe bananas because of this special diet she's on. So, when the bananas got too ripe for her to eat, I made banana bread. Yesterday was tough for me because, the night before, I had a PTSD-related panic attack. The next afternoon, I was still dealing with the residual effects… Continue reading On Banana Bread
About two days ago, my grandma and I started receiving irksome texts from my dad. Where's the chicken coop? he kept asking, I'm sure it's on the property. He wouldn't give it up - he even sent us pictures he had taken last year of this mysterious chicken coop that was supposedly in my grandma's… Continue reading On Chicken Coops
We sit by the ocean, sunglasses on, blessed down to our toes in sun. Hibiscus beer gives off a rosy glow from our glasses. The waitress places two metal trays in front of us, covered in salty, greasy fries and grilled fish sandwiches. There's nowhere on earth as joyful as my body when I take… Continue reading On Food
I woke up this morning and shuffled to the bedroom door. What followed was a mess of decisions, routine, habit, emotion, and, like it or not, just plain humanness. What followed was a mess. A beautiful, powerful, ordinary, exhausting, comical mess. A regular day. A regular day where I made so many tiny decisions, each… Continue reading On Decisions
Egg tree, egg tree, egg Tree. I need you so badly. You're my way back to myself.
second day of february and she'd already dreamt of her twice there, by the river, draped in her rubies and pearls standing in socks with a cupful of tea, i wonder if i'll ever see her again her sadness the hero i saw when i drew her in tie dye, in crayon
I’ll go to visit you In the green fields of my youth Your skin as soft as flowers That dot the hillside My mother she will hold Your hand until she knows That you will safely make it Through her memories I remember summer treats Blueberries between my teeth Raw cane sugar in a little… Continue reading Grammy