Dead Mums and Stuff
"I miss waking up to you writing." It felt like a balm and a dagger. He said it pre-dawn, as he sat down on our bed to watch his Mom…
"I miss waking up to you writing." It felt like a balm and a dagger. He said it pre-dawn, as he sat down on our bed to watch his Mom…
I feel like mothers live in this thick divide between pure, unadulterated bliss on one side, and absolute helplessness on the other. Motherhood is a mix like that. One minute…
It's Sunday. The sun is hot and high, beating and beaming. It's a thick and busty 95 degrees. I have Texas blood pumping through my Cherokee veins so I'm choosing…
In an hour they'll all gather. I wish so badly I could be there to mourn and hug and resolve and remember. Instead, I'm here tending to two boys with…
It's Sunday and my seat will be empty. That seat there next to the preacher where I stand and raise one hand in worship and slip the other into his…
Daddy always put dill on his avocados. Dill and vinegar. And he'd mix them around in a ceramic bowl and stick them with a silver fork and then offer me some.…
Seeing his shoes makes me breathe easy. All worn and untied and soft from all day wear, sitting there, at the end of our long hall.... They tell me that…
I'm starting to see some color tinge the tips of these mountain trees. We're sitting here on the fringes of fall, in a place that actually feels and sees the…
"Mama, I really don't think it's all the way dead yet." That's what my oldest proclaimed when I told him to take the dried up plants from the back porch…
I do love a good birthday. It's the eve of my entrance into the world and I'm giddy like a child. Every time I look up from some menial, ordinary…