I want to write, because it's been one of those weeks where a million things happened, like candy tumbling from broken papier-mâché, and...

I've been waking before 7 am. The birds sing through the open bathroom window, the fresh morning air tumbles in. I look forward to each...

Sunday The day started with a flapping shoe: the only shoes Austin brought to Paris--a vintage pair of fur-lined boots from my Opa--were...

Friday Austin and I arrived in Paris on a Friday afternoon and hopped on a mostly empty coach bus to take us to our train station. The...

For months I didn’t feel like writing, but time always rebalances me, encourages me to check back in. I was convinced I’d lose all the...

Oma inhales, now………and now………….and now………………….and now. Her eyes are all brown, pinpoint black irises. Slack eyelids toward the window:...

Abundant ferns and moss glisten with yesterday’s rain. Banana slugs drag slime across flats of mud. The mid-morning sun peeks between...

We start the hike cold: cold ears and cold arms and we walk in the shade and I stuff my fingers in my pockets and I think about mom like...

I've been holding off on writing until a cloudy day, because I know we're owed many weeks and months' worth of bottomless grey, and...