You Win

There is a drawer on the far-right side of my entryway table that I do not touch. This is ironic because before Andrew died, I resorted to the drawer religiously. Every hour, I rushed to it in hopes of finding something, anything, that might put out whatever fire we were currently staring into. This drawer … More You Win

Grief

Grief is dreaming. It is me watching, working, manufacturing the process of making all of your dreams come true, even if you’re not here to see it. Grief is the fear of the bittersweet ache sure to appear on the day that I start pursuing my own dreams again. Yours are easier. Yours keep you … More Grief

Well Done

Words fail me. They never use to. Words were always my friend. They had my back. Even when sometimes they were a bit unrefined, impulsive, sharp- they were there. Over the past few weeks words have been hit or miss with me. Sometimes my mind is loud, the words are clear. But some days they … More Well Done

Pain, The Beatles, and a Love Note to My Readers

“And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer: Let it be.” In a world of division, so many are seeking that “thing.” That thing that crosses over strong barriers. That thing that can sew together even the most divided of adversaries. That thing that all can relate to, … More Pain, The Beatles, and a Love Note to My Readers

Tragic Grace

I have lived a million people’s tragedies, and I always seem to live it way better than they do. I mean, we all have, right? We’ve read books and watched movies. We have heard, seen, read people’s stories. We hear stories about the many things that create a life, and unfortunately, much of that is … More Tragic Grace

Heaven, Grandmothers, and Little Old Crochet Hooks

Yellow yarn, pink hook. “It’s a snake,” eight-year-old me said holding up a long chain of crochet. I remember the warmth of my grandma’s living room. I remember the smell of roast in her kitchen. I remember the color of the yarn- yellow. The color of the crochet hook- pink. “It’s wonderful,” she said, examining … More Heaven, Grandmothers, and Little Old Crochet Hooks

First World Probs.

My 65-year-old neighbor puts my trashcan out on the street for me every Friday morning. It’s the smallest gesture, but it means the absolute world to me. My next-door neighbors are originally from Nigeria. Earlier this year, they learned that my husband had stage four cancer, and the wife of the pair rushed out one … More First World Probs.