I send a quiet prayer of petition up for my sisters out there adding eggs to their hair routine: “May they remember to switch to the cold faucet.”
I used to think that gratitude would rob me of joyful anticipation.
Normalcy was on the horizon, but staying safe still meant never getting my hopes up.
As much as we hope to find friends where we land, I wonder how many of us simply direct our energy into things we can better control.
Do I know the ends of what I know, and will my knowledge deliver or damn me?
As long as we’re on this earth, she and I are stuck together.
Part animal, part plant.
There is no loneliness like the loneliness in our own strangeness and darkness.
He lurks behind church ladies when they ask if I’m still single.
You are not helping by pretending you can do it if you can’t, Katie.
