This year was the year of story. I clung to the narratives I found veined across paper when it felt like my own was crumbling like so much sand between my fingers. In the midst of the wilderness — silences, lengthy depressive episodes, pixels, temptation, lonely nights and lonely walks, difficult but needed good-byes, aContinue reading “2020 in Books”
The start of what I hope to be an interesting and wholesome series on strangers I encounter or observe in the sundry spaces I inhabit. To the young mom who shopped at my local grocery store when I worked there, Thank you for always saving me a smile, for shopping on Wednesday afternoons because youContinue reading “strangers: kind”
You create yourself in ever-changing shapes that rise from the stuff of our days— unsung, unmourned, undescribed, like a forest we never knew —rainer marie rilke, book of hours II, 22 Thanksgiving dawned gloomy. Winds berated the little house and whipped around corners, sending cars careening down the hilly roads and trees bending precariously closeContinue reading ““unsung, unmourned, undescribed””
some spaces to cry: the edge of a sea green bathtub because they shouldn’t be texting you Monday chapel if the worship team makes you sing songs about ashes a full-length mirror crudely stuck to the wall you’ll think you look like a monster on Amazon while looking for a cheap, single-serve coffee maker theContinue reading “Sabbath”
“The Bookshop” hangs suspended at the scene where Ms. Green meets Mr. Brundish. Halfway through the movie, they’re having tea together in an ill-lit dining room that looks like it used to boast grand parties. His white hair feels vaguely reminiscent of Albert Einstein, except if Einstein had made it a habit to carefully combContinue reading “in an apartment kitchen, alone”
From the journal: “I haven’t had a sense of smell in two weeks [for various reasons]. Today I realized it’s starting to come back, but every time I inhale a deep breath outdoors, I highly dislike the smell that assails my senses. It smells like polluted air. It’s not sweet. Like freshly cut grass mixedContinue reading “Day 7 – Senses”
Being on campus during the summer is very different from the hustle and bustle of the school year. Buildings lock at 5pm sharp, and there’s a strange hush hovering over the cracked sidewalks. Even the wind, which is still as cold and strong as ever, seems quieter.
In the morning, I thought of you and smiled. It still aches. It hurts to remember that you’re not here. And yet, somehow, I feel as if you’re still here. Your smile is alive and well. Your laugh rings through our hallways and the little family room in your split-level house. Your kindness still touchesContinue reading “Stories from 4FF4: Life is a Gift”