Grief was the catalyst to jumpstart my writing; sharing my voice with others has been proven to be the ultimate creative muse.
Read MoreI was five months into my middle-aged gap year, hot-flashing my way around Europe with my surly sidekick, menopause. At 52, I’m taking the trip I never took in my 20s.
Read MoreIt’s 1986, and I’m a brooding teenager who’s already irritated with the world when she decapitates my plan to deflower my left ankle when I turn 18.
Read MoreI found my mom’s ashes at the foot of my dad’s bed. They were wrapped in her favorite light blue cotton sweater and nestled between a cold hot water bottle and a thick pair of wool socks from REI.
Read MoreHe had outlived the love of his life, existing solely in the shadow of his own sorrow, depleted by grief. He’s alone, heartbroken, and already isolated enough as it is. And now, we faced the threat of quarantine looming over our Sunday afternoon routine. It broke my heart wide open.
Read MoreEveryone I know likes their eggs cooked a specific way. For me, it is one of the ultimate intimacies, up there on the list with how they take their coffee, or what they don’t want on their sandwich.
Read MoreDo we ever really heal from the loss of those we love so dearly?
Read MoreI always head to the ocean when I’m going through a rough patch or need to do a bit of soul searching.
Read MoreI’m on a tiny island, fifty miles off the coast of Belize, parked behind my laptop at a communal dining table in the kitchen.
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