Let’s start with the Pretty Things of the past year. In January and February, most of us saw no Signs of what was to become. In fact, as 2020 began I hoped that love and kindness would become The Signature of All Things.
February found me believing that I was at Such a Fun Age. I became The Sun Sister, jumping in the ocean with the humpback whales on The (Hawaiian) Island, staring in awe at The Starless Sea as my guy and I hiked cliffs and beaches. The near future was Hid from Our Eyes. Continue reading
I used to have a fear of Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia . You know, fear of long words.
I blame it on my reading.
I figured out how to understand the squiggly lines on a page when I was 4. In the past, children weren’t encouraged to read in Kindergarten. The best thing for young brains was play, back in the day. Continue reading
When I’m reading a book, I become a Beautiful Exile, not made of Blood and Bone and under no Rule of Law. The only Contract I’m under is between me, the author, and the characters who transplant me Through the Evil Days to a place where I can Hope for the Best and become a Dream Daughter of the reading world. Continue reading
I don’t know about you, but during much of 2018 I felt like I was swimming Upstream. Each day seemed to bring Just One Damned Thing after Another; other days seemed like A Walk in the Park.
On the personal side, my concussion in May led to the The Longest Nine Months of feeling like I lived in an Alternate Side, a side where writing and teaching and thinking were an Unlikely Pilgrimage. Continue reading
Perhaps it’s big magic, perhaps it’s many small great things, but for the good of the commonwealth, I choose to think it’s the origin of us all.
Before the fall, when the summer sun seems like the light of Paris, and cerulean and lavender seem like every day true colors, circumstances of childhood don’t matter. If we have bags, we travel. Our nemesis – winter – is conquered, and we believe that today will be different. Continue reading