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.

Unravel Me

26 years ago today, my husband and I were both forming in our mothers’ stomachs. I get it, no one needs the visual or the biology lesson, but hang with me here. I am 28 days older than Andrew. When I think about that, when I think about the fact that we were both being … More Unravel Me