In middle school, Brittney picked a fallen eyelash off my cheek. She set it on top of her index finger and told me she had stolen a wish. She made the small-whoosh sound of blowing out a single birthday candle, and her corresponding puff floated my eyelash into the air. Now I keep my own wishes, and I have added an important layer to this … Continue reading 20. eyelash love
By the time Jess is ready to consider a cane, just for the purpose of safe and steady walks with her love by her side, my experimental bandaid-surgery has worn itself down and I am using mine regularly again. She reaches out to ask where to find a good one, and I take too long to answer because somehow I imagine us busy still. Not … Continue reading 13. where i imagine Jess old
I started a new year on Diwali. A late October new. This closed out my hardest 12-month stretch yet, and if you’ve seen the stretches that came before this, in my frightfully wondrous life, you know how significant a statement that is. You know how I must have reached right past the stick of my joints, the stay of my skin, the hold of my … Continue reading 4. biscuit year
1 I’ll be honest. This puppet video could be 1 through 5 of my list because I like it that much. I especially enjoy that it’s from text I had written and long-forgotten on my Facebook page, a page that was in retirement for the last few years and only recently got resurrected. Now, it lives on my Ko-Fi page. (Related joy: I got my … Continue reading 5 january joys
The little leaf is paisley-shaped now, different from its brethren. Halfway through growing, a stem got in the way. It grew around it. It took its share of water from the roots, and grew around it. The plant itself doesn’t notice the difference anymore. Maybe, maybe in those moments of stalled blossom, the one little leaf felt like the weakest link, but not now. Now … Continue reading 100 / paisley
The long smooth slice down the body of the pomegranate, and how I always do five of these in even measure. How the pom breaks open in my palms and the jewels clank into the bowl. How the arils burst stain onto my fingers. The slow, steady work of this. The way a fruit like this, so built for holding, simply falls to our feet … Continue reading what’s something that feels sacred, but isn’t?
Anyone who’s really gone through something knows that there’s a stage, or a day, or a short-lived hour, where you just become the dog with a hat in a bar full of fire. You tell yourself that everything is fine, and you sip your tea. The first few times this happened to me, I worried about not worrying. Change feels like it needs our full … Continue reading this is fine
I want the universe to know I can write about small things. And by small, I don’t mean brain-clot-small, I don’t mean prison-cell-small, I don’t mean urn-of-ashes-small, I mean, door-hinge-small. I could write about door hinges. I could find a story there. I see beauty there. One time, a contractor told me that most door hinges don’t usually break, they just stop being able to … Continue reading rara borboleta
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