He grows sunflowers in the summertime, because my garden is bare. I cradle my dog before her bedtime, because his seeds never bloom. We dream adventures and flying away, because our nest stays empty. My hands rest in his firm fist while we sleep, because he’s still holding hope.
Scrambled Eggs
Splat across the concrete like a raw egg dropped from a rooftop and broken open; face flat on the ground with a mound of black and brown ants covering its bare, unfeathered body; pushed out of its nest and left for dead is how I found that tiny baby bird this morning. I stopped and…
Don’t be a hero, Dad
That’s what they told my father the night they tried to reach down his throat and pull all his faith and wisdom and pride and courage right out of his chest. One care-free night after church, my party-of-five family went for dinner and strolled into an armed restaurant robbery. Funny how nightmares can stick for…
Cashing In
Let’s go reverse shop. Return all the baby stuff we still haven’t used, and spend the money on some kind of an adventure, one they can’t take back.
How many more weeks of winter?
When that damn groundhog declared six more weeks of gloom in a world already so dark for so long, I admit I too went back to bed. It seemed much easier to try to sleep off my grief than work through it. My alarm clock has been snoozing for so long, I nearly forgot what…
Barren
Grayed over and dried out is the final act of an empty and dying garden atop a bed of infertile soil. Even knowing this to be true and having watched through her window for years as the colors faded and the possibilities withered with each setting sun, the woman in the house with no children…
Heart Healing
(lyrics) One more funny kind of fuzzy kind of day. Tired of saying sorry that I’m still this way, And I wish I could be better. Whisper please be gentle, dear, please don’t mind my lying here. I’m just waiting for the fog to clear. Turns out loving you is knowing we’re enough. We’re not…
Write Yourself Well Again Coming Soon
WriteOn! One thing I have learned on my Writing Myself Well Again journey is that wellness requires you to do the work. It’s not JUST a state of mind. It’s a lifestyle, and you have to plan for it, strategize around it, and be intentional about it. As part of that process, TeamPI (Paige &…
Stick-to-itiveness
Sticky isn’t quite the right word for the way my left hand feels every time I hold it between my legs, hold my breath and count to five, hold my chin up to keep my pride, & hold my eyes wide to keep them dry. And that stupid sticky strip of just-standing-still between my legs …
Dream about Angels
Lying in this bed that I’ve made, wrapped in arms and paws and blankets, I’m watering my pillows with mascara that I should have washed off before crawling in, but I never do. While I weep myself to sleep, for the third or fourth time this week, I hold my own hand and tell my…
Moth-Eaten Sweater 