1 Self-care. My new Etsy shop where people can buy some of my late husband’s art on a t-shirt, or even one of my little expressions. It feels good to know that Dave’s art is out there again, and that my words have been made tangible. And, who knows– maybe it’ll even help me chip […]Read More
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. _______________________________________ […]Read More
Today, I can make myself a cup of tea from scratch. So I do. I chop the ginger on my scratched wooden cutting board, and push it to the side. My hands are always washed when I’m in the kitchen, and I washed the ginger too, but just in case, I wash everything again. Mamasaur […]Read More
I know there is magic.
I never stop looking for it. I pretend I can make it. My fingers tap across a keyboard and it crackles like sorcery.Read More
May 23, 2015 The water bottle is crinkling. Around it, conversation is soft, muted, somber– but there’s no volume control on plastic. I turn to look at the small hands holding it. He’s balanced in his mom’s arms, joyfully squeezing sounds out of the bottle. I smile at his mom, and then I make eye […]Read More
Originally written 08/05/14, from Orange County Jail On days like this, I miss the moon. She’s been my personal guide for as long as I can remember. In my youth, my small hands would pretend to hold her. I’d sit by the windows— palms bowled together— and whisper my secrets into her glow. As a […]Read More