The days and nights are long; the weeks, months, years are short.Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrowFeb 3, 2021Feb 3, 2021
We planted rye in the late winter when the rain pummeled the cold ground.Now you, Fiona Rye, and I brush our bodies through the tall grass together, your small head on my shoulder, eyes shut tight against the…Jul 9, 20201Jul 9, 20201
Birthing in the PandemicI am 37 weeks pregnant in the middle of a pandemic. Ebbing and flowing fears about COVID19 are often nestled in the pit of my stomach next…Mar 24, 20202Mar 24, 20202
Spin Cycles: the excruciating anxiety of trying (and trying and trying) to get pregnantThe man at the garden store looks down at the crumpling brown leaf I hold in my palm. “Sunburn,” he says.Jul 1, 2019Jul 1, 2019
Lessons from the Most Trusted Man in AmericaFor three years, I sailed the Atlantic with Walter Cronkite. His stories made me question the meaning of journalistic “truth.”Nov 5, 20184Nov 5, 20184
Pushing Boulders: How to Be Happy with the (beautifully) MundaneThe pile of diapers grows, the acrid smell of urine overwhelming the small room, windows shut against the changing tide of seasons, the…Sep 26, 2018Sep 26, 2018
A Sleeve Full of CourageThe basement is cool and dark, the smoky light of day obscured by purple globe thistles, deep green sweet pea vines, and a rogue elderberry…Aug 22, 2018Aug 22, 2018
Pushing the SongI can feel her body against mine, smooth and cold, her body the lick of a tongue, the breath of a wave. Her fins span out from her body and…Aug 4, 2018Aug 4, 2018
