Ode to Thrift Store Skates
It all came so much easier to my pigeon-toed feet than walking ever will.
The Muddy Clarity of Suspension
It doesn’t make much sense, as far as personal dreams or plans for my future go.
An End, A Continuation
If I retire to my room early, it’s hard not to feel a twinge of guilt.
Reclaiming Feast Days
A cautious attempt at cranberry sauce sat side by side with the more reliable smoky chili sauce, shito.
Undercooking the Turkey
I walked our meat department every day looking for the perfect bird on which to dote and ultimately roast to golden, crispy-skinned perfection.
I Care Less
All I know is that she gardens and gives people Christmas trees and string lights, so according to Hallmark movies she’s probably Santa’s daughter.
A Warm Welcome
Despite her mother’s gentle instruction, Naomi’s approach better resembled University of Michigan defensive end Aidan Hutchinson’s manhandling of the Ohio State offense.
The Lens of the Uncanny Valley
It is an easy explanation for why people are so afraid of clowns—or dolls, for that matter.
Fragments of Family
I “flew away from the nest” of family without really figuring out what my nest even was.
Coming of Age in the Arborist World
That’s when the client’s mailbox gets pummelled to the ground.
