mysteries too marvelous to be understood
When I find out Mary Oliver has left this earth, I’m on the edge of 28, I’m drinking tea on the couch, the snow is falling sideways, and I can …
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you do not have to be good
Sunday nights are the holiest, hardest times — I have let go of everything the last week asked for but I feel in my stomach the request to pick it …
lord willing and the creek don’t rise
After I get the call that the seller didn’t take my offer on the sunny south-facing condo I’d fallen in love with, I run errands for work – the office …
here, in the snowiest month
On the way to Black Velvet, the world was quiet except for the muffled hum of all the vehicles – stuck ones and moving ones and chained ones and lifted trucks and snow plows, some of them with spinning blades and blowers and some without.
