Cascarones are bright-colored eggshells, with confetti tissue-paper-sealed into them. The eggs are emptied through a small hole and then washed and dyed. Growing up, we would start saving the shells in February to have enough for Easter Sunday, when we would run around our backyard and smash them over each other’s heads. This is a bright memory for me, clear as day. The carton of … Continue reading journal 4.4
Once broken doesn’t mean always broken. Healed doesn’t mean there won’t be mending to do. Mending doesn’t have to be a hard work, it can be a soft one, a gentle tilling and tending. A piece of litter thrown into the recycling. A spritz of perfume behind my ear, the bright of the bergamot jumping in front of any other scent. A smile to a … Continue reading tending to the mending
Sometime in the dark of early morning, I shook a fluffy blanket out and made tiny lightning. I spread my arms wide and parachuted a miniature sky of spark and star. I forget that static electricity looks the way it looks. Most days, it’s an invisible thing, a small jaw snapping at my ankles across a carpeted ocean. But in the right light– or, without … Continue reading jan 6
I don’t know where to begin, or what to say. I feel very much like a glass with a single drop of water in it. A stem with no leaves. Not dead, and not empty– but certainly not alive and full. I gathered these photos in the middle of last night, to remind me how I see the world. To remind me why I fight for it.
Even when, well– even when. Continue reading regathering
My sleep, when it happens, is a little bit see-through. A gossamer sheet that falls over my face, ghosts me from the world, for an hour, or two, sometimes four. I tell it bedtime stories about jail, how it –(some days)– stretched to nine hours long inside. It sounds like a fable, for who has ever heard of a sleep so grown? It sounds like … Continue reading sheep dreams
When I can’t quite build a thought out into something solid enough for this blog, I will often post it to Instagram with the tag #LilliputianLog. The last weeks have seen a few of those posts so I thought I’d share them and the content here for those who aren’t on the other platform. _______________________________________ 05.27 #LilliputianLog It is 2020. My mask matches my dress. I … Continue reading lilliputian logs
I didn’t tell anyone about the first date I had after Dave died, until after. I was afraid it would be an embarrassing disaster, so I made up an excuse and strolled out the door. It turns out I didn’t do anything horrible at the date. I didn’t spill a glass of wine everywhere. (I’m not sure why I’m always worried about this particular thing … Continue reading f.w.b.