The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
Tag: family
the other mother
Her snail’s pace is patience, thrumming through the rooms where I try to exist.
For Him.
It all happened in an instant, just like the lightning rush.
postpartum
it took a year for it / to die, shelled and / alone in a far corner of / the unkempt living room.
sustainability
i've grown feral.
reasons I exist
a fire / a trough / a pill
sometimes our children are the stabilizers.
The key chain from the aquarium sat at the other end of the kitchen table. I watched the blue-dyed water and the turtle inside shake, each time he sunk into his chair and wriggled, refusing to read an assignment.
today I managed to be fully present for you.
I snapped quick photos of your concentration, placed the phone down and watched your fingers move, how you dipped your brushes a little too aggressively, swirled through the orange like a hurricane then slapped on too many layers.
vigil for nothing
awareness for the what-ifs / awareness for the things / you could never comprehend / so you spend all of your / precious time trying to
it’s a wild ride.
Does your brain ever feel like it's on a carousel? 'Cause mine sure does. Every. Damn. Day. Spinning in circles, everything lost in an up-down blur. You crane your neck to try to keep your eyes on that one something, but inevitably it always escapes your line of vision, because that carousel just keeps on…
