the edges of myself

words, words, words

My 16 year old cat died this past Saturday night.  She was declining– and clearly ready to depart. I knew Thursday when she stopped eating and spent all day in the backyard under a tree that she was clear in her decision to go. I told both of my kids when they arrived home from school that …

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I never read the rules for mothering it seems I was absent that day– perhaps all of us were. Carrying around the textbook burden of guilt, the weight of which mocks our shortcomings and reveals the all-too constant truth that we’re just winging it.   Each new day, another brave face– scooping up the pieces …

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the truest romance born of spit and grass stains mirrored feet and an ease that exudes timelessness and whispers of the infinite.   languid days of smiles and symmetry harmonious melody grounded in familiarity– like the comfort of an old pair of jeans, softened and worn in the perfect places– a childhood photo, fuzzy at the …

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timelessness emerges existing next to you. a span of hours, days– one tender moment folded into lifetimes spent chasing shadows and resurrecting structures.   mapping this careful framework entrusted to none but ourselves.   the understated pageantry of a life unfolding small moments witnessed– all access granted to the one whose willingness to engage is unsurpassed.   …

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