I’ve always loved Texas winters. Our glimmering summers can be brutal and suffocating in their airlessness. Winter, at least when…
Busyhead: Anxiety as a symptom of grief
My head is full of bees. Thoughts hum constantly and without direction. Grief has been the strangest animal for me.…
Afscheidswals
Excerpt from a work-in-progress on this National Mutt day for my most beautiful mutt. April 2019 I hear, tonight, no…
Art & Grief: Finding the Perfection in the Imperfect
I stitched and the dog snored and life was sweet and warm. I finished the biscornu and in all those stitches and waves and snoring came words for the page…
The Joy Between Naps: Facing Mortality
When you walk beside someone daily, you don’t always see the subtle changes in their bodies and faces as they…
Lost Art
These things cloud my head (with my permission) like a perpetual flu. If I were an addict, I could blame drugs or booze, but my addictions are the 3 x 5 screen in my hand and the constant reexamination of pain and rage. Better to binge on pixels and past hurts than to leave the chasm in my brain agape because I simply can’t properly fill it.
Health, Hope, and Mud-Dung Candy: Living in the Present
I came away from Facebook for a few weeks. I logged back in a few times not because I wanted…
For Momma – Letter
It was when my daughter was in her most rebellious stage that I called you beyond tears, beyond rage, exhausted…