Homesick

I’m homesick for a time when people were just people, not layers of complicated emotions and traumas and hopes and expectations.

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Carlisle’s Christmas Classics

Listening to those songs always reminds me of cutting paper snowflakes around the dining room table, putting up tin or clay ornaments on the tree, decorating sugar cookies made from a slightly altered recipe my dad’s been honing for years.

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In Loving Memory

How strange it is to choose to labor over writing the perfect string of words, singing with the perfect tone, preparing the perfect meal to honor a person who can’t experience their veneration.

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