Football Saturdays
It’s only 7:30 a.m., but there’s already a buzz in the air.
It’s only 7:30 a.m., but there’s already a buzz in the air.
They made a makeshift cardboard torch from our flame and took it to help light a fire for their kids.
We all pause our lives, deplete finances, but we are replenished in the ways that matter most.
From our post, we could see the full big screen and hear the entire concert. Were we standing in a tree and getting hit in the face with branches? Absolutely.
I type fast, scroll fast, work fast.
How could something so inexplicably awful happen on a day like that?
I can see her potted plants, and I wonder how they survive since she’s never there to water them.
Something felt almost sacred about holding them, the faded writing scrawled on the back of fraying cards.
Where was the magic in saltines and Gatorade for dinner, in spiking fevers and loneliness? Where was the magic in canceled flights and missed wedding celebrations?
The beginning of friendships can feel so formal. And it should be, at least a little bit.
The palm and mangrove trees were stripped of their leaves, and much of the vegetation on the island has turned brown.
Getting enough daily protein is no easy feat, rainbow chard isn’t half bad, and chocolate makes me a much, much happier person.
On every guitar case and appliance in sight were collections of stickers from anything and everywhere.
I’ve dubbed this summer as “healing girl summer” (instead of the trendy and probably more fun, TikTok-approved hot girl summer).
People said I glided across the water, but I felt more like I was floundering, barely able to get above the surface long enough to gasp for air.
I placed sex firmly in the “bad” category, to be retrieved only after I walked down an elusive aisle to a man I probably wouldn’t meet for at least a decade.
Lately, many of my daily life things don’t feel significant enough to write about.
Sleepy but knowing I had a mission, I quietly slipped out the door and down to the water.
The chance that something I’ve written could be made better paralyzes me into never wanting to publish anything at all. Where’s the joy in that?
As the dedicated plant owner that I am, I inadvertently left my succulents at the office for that entire time. For months, I completely forgot I even had plants.
Our days at the beach are grounding, measured by low tides and the direction of the waves.
“How does she have enough vacation days for this?”
The balance at the end of the day always tilts towards good.
I would have inhaled a rosemary salt bagel with my iced vanilla latte this morning.
It’s impossible to forget that the building was once a church.
We all settled in for work from “home” days together (it’s a corporate girl summer after all).
I hope a story of adventure is visible in me when the light shines through.
We push through our most stressful life seasons by watching our favorite Gilmore ones.
The candle reminds her that something greater is at work in the room.
It’s as if the freedom to have fun was traded in exchange for my college diploma.