Dear Gram

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Dearest Gram,

It’s been an eternity since I wrote to you. It’s been an eternity since you left.

So much has happened. I’m a wife now. A small tragedy from which I will never recover is that you weren’t here to meet him. Continue reading

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happy, happy birthday, baby.

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i turned 34 this week. the estrogen-compelled ageist in me bemoaned the fact, condemning the gray hairs abounding along my middle part (of course. of course they sprout up in the exact place they would be most noticeable), and my metabolism, aka the physiological version of a last-picked-in-P.E. loser, no longer able to sprint through any of my all-you-can-eat culinary acquisitions the way it used to. but, the Moonriver cantillating, stained-glass reverie dwelling, heartsome part of me reveled in the blessing of another year on a planet so apt to provide. aside from grateful communion with my God, i felt there was no better way to express my thankful wonder at the world then by composing a list of 34 reasons why I am so very glad to be alive and well.  Continue reading

i’ll remember you

Yesterday I got some news that a dear friend had passed away. My heart has been ever so heavy for hours and hours and tears are insistent, try as I may to keep them at bay. I have always been an advocate of words as catharsis, but words seem frail when we’re hollowed out by grief. Oh how I miss you, my friend. One of my personal waves of grief is just wanting Heaven closer. There is something cruel about knowing where your dear one has gone and yet having no way of getting there without Heaven itself calling you there. Continue reading

Sentimental Me

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“It is looking at things for a long time that ripens you and gives you meaning.”
-Vincent Van Gogh

From The Louvre, The Musee d’Orsay is just a short walk across the bridge and along the Seine. But, a walk across and along the Seine is so much more than that, isn’t it? It is a stroll down Memory Lane, only they are not actual memories- they are all the imagined scenarios you’d hoped to collect someday but deep down never really knew how to conjure up into realness. Continue reading

Raised On Rock

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“It’s great to be here. It’s great to be anywhere.”
-Keith Richards

Keith Richards turns an immortal 71 today. I wrote this for him.
And for my dad. And for me.

Anais Nin said, “we write to taste life twice”, and I say that perhaps we write to taste it twice, and then read those words over and over to dine on life for the rest of our days. Perhaps we write to create appendages to things, and moments, and feelings already beautiful in their own right.

Continue reading

Apron Strings

mayday“For this child I prayed.” 1 Samuel 1:27

I promise I will always have pennies in my coin purse in case we happen upon a fountain, for I will never stand for you missing out on anything upon which you can attach a wish. I promise to let you stay home from school every January 8th, and we will have Elvis sandwiches and watch his movies all day long. (We will tell your teachers it is a religious holiday.) Continue reading

A House That Has Everything

 

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“Art and love are the same thing: It’s the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you.”
-Chuck Klosterman

The Louvre inspires awe before you even step foot inside its walls. You can’t help but marvel at the remarkable intricacies carved into its facade, during a time when men’s gifted hands were their livelihood; the talents they nurtured became their life’s work.  It’s a beautiful thing, the recognition that though this place holds so many works of art within its walls, it yet stands as a work of art itself. I can’t help but compare this to people, too. Continue reading

Girl: Happy

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“In this world in which we live, simplicity and kindness are the only magic wands that work wonders.”
-L. Frank Baum

When I think of living simply, I immediately envisage small living spaces. Most often, the requiem I find myself in is a small loft apartment, with charmingly crackled walls, cold concrete floors, and a bed clad in diaphanous white linens, the center of it all. There are countless little towers of vintage books, haphazardly strewn throughout the humble haven, all standing watch like little sentinels.  Continue reading