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Before the pandemic, the scent of warm, yeasty bread would have filled the chapel. Someone from our school’s café would have walked down in the hour or so before the service to leave a fresh-baked loaf wrapped in a white…
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On the Changing of Seasons
Lately, I’ve been fighting it. Pandemic life has meant so much change already. I’m feeing less and less desire to adapt. I’m feeling strongly protective of things I wouldn’t have expected to hold onto so tightly. As summer passes and…
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What to Do with Too Much to Do
What do you do with too much to do? I remember carrying that question around in my head for quite a while before, one day, a classmate of mine asked our professor how to find her own voice in the…
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Handling the Holes Created by Loss
I’ve never worked in kintsugi gold, but I’ve begun enjoying the other kinds of repairs that I do manage to do. Repairs feel like a form of care for the things that go with me through my days. On the…
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Beneath the Loss
Does the vividness of memory ever surprise you? It does me. I remember a day as a student when I joined some classmates in waving scarves of every color as we danced barefoot down the grey, marble-floored hallways of our…
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On Mountain Biking and Trying Again
I remember lying on my back, looking up through tree branches. Leaves crunched under me, and my new mountain bike lay on top of me. It was not a promising beginning. In fact, it was a broken rib. Painful as…
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