8,773: a different kind of love story
Twenty-one years ago I was walking in the days of great expectation. My first was to be born at the end of a long, hot summer, smack dab in the middle of one of only three months I had told God I did not want to have a baby. He grinned and said, “August...
The Glorious Misfortune #motherhood
How is it that I’ve never accomplished being two places at once but she’s everywhere I turn? In the blue mason jar on the kitchen counter. (Out of all the glasses I have, these are what she chooses to drink from. Every time.) In the half-eaten Zip-loc of...When days are numbered…
The moon is halfway through the sky and I am alone when they bring her to me and I'm glad. She is joy bundled in flannely white with end stripes in pink and blue. I smile to think she looks like an ice cream cone–swaddled tightly with the...
The First Last
Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that suppose to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing. ~Toni Morrison, Beloved I almost missed it because I was so self-absorbed. The first...Welcome!
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