her life in prose

 Five years into life here, and I am realizing how tied my soul still is to where I came from.  My sister stayed with me over my birthday. I wanted the week to be less rushed and more rest than previous visits.  We spent hours talking, stretched across my bed that I now share with my husband.  We sat at my worn wood table, legs folded up, hands wrapped around mugs of  peppermint tea,  sipping on sweet memories and  new revelations that are only released through sister serenity.  I felt part of my soul settle in my chest as I listened to her steps  padding down the hallway.  My life blood lives in my sister. It ebbs and flows as time and distance move between us.  We are chinked together with Appalachian blood and a woman's grit on my mom's side,  Catholic liturgy and a steady know-how from my dad.  In a city that values individuality, I rejoice in my similarity--chalk up victory in the cadence of my sister's laugh, and the...

We are so addicted to fresh starts.  2023 was not an easy year for me--I experienced my first year of post-grad life, and it was full of the fumbles and bumbles that are the trademarks of your twenties. I started the year with hope of a new job as an assistant editor. I was confident I was going to get my foot in the door at some shiny publishing house in Manhattan and impress everyone by living out my 90s rom-com career.  Andie Anderson made it look so easy in How To Lose a Guy in Ten Days! How hard could it be?  Turns out, it's pretty dang hard. Between writers strikes, hiring holds, publishing house mergers, and a deplorable job market, I acquired an impressive amount of rejection letters.  My fresh-faced, recent grad optimism was lost somewhere between writing my hundredth cover letter and receiving my ninety-ninth rejection.  Aside from entering the work-force, I spent most of my year trying to hold it together as three of my closest friends got married. Th...

 "Don't forget to be a kid today," I saw someone post today.  I love this saying. I love the sentiment of it.  Return to the essence of childhood that is play, un-affected joy, minding one's own business because it's so interesting you don't know to care about anyone else's.  I remember as a child, each day seemed stretching outward and upward, with so much possibility before sunset. It seemed impossible to waste the hours of the day--there was much to be done before the evening rest.  Be a kid today. Read something you can't put down, and go for a walk to see something new, even if it's just that street that you know the name of but you've never wandered down before. 

It's been a rainy June in New York City. Movie nights at Bryant Park have been postponed. "Date Night at the MET" has replaced Central Park picnics, and Rockaway Beach trips have become a weekend rarity as New Yorkers weather through the unexpected dreariness of these first few weeks of summer.  But on a rooftop in Park Slope on Friday, June 23rd, thirty-some musicians, artists, poets, and dreamers gathered to enjoy an evening of original music and poetry, determined to create a little sunlight amidst the seemingly omnipresent rainclouds.  Gracie McBride, the host of the evening, is a multi-talented musician herself. A violinist, vocalist, bassist, and songwriter, she kind of does it all. She took the initiative to invite a group of creatives to perform their songs and poems for her many friends. With a beautiful rooftop space, and some borrowed equipment McBride created a welcoming environment, complete with a gorgeous view of a fog-laden Downtown Brooklyn.  Connected me...

  “Nighttime Shower” I read somewhere,  Always shower at night  To wash the mess of the day away from your mind, your body  Tonight I don’t want to wash you away  I close my eyes, imagine  The light  Overhead  is golden hour streaming on our faces  Again  Only an hour ago Like warm water  Your fingers slid hotly down my wrists  Shampooing down  I turn,  My hands like  Your hands drift to that spot on my neck  If I stay here maybe  I can see  Once more  The love in your eyes,  Relive that  Perfect Moment a second time which is  A luxury, One doesn’t often see perfection twice  In this twisted-up, ugly life.  I turn off the shower  I’ll see him tomorrow, I think  How lucky for me  I’ll glimpse perfection tomorrow, and  Very likely,  The next day after that too

 "Already Ourselves"  We are  Already ourselves  don't we spend  the rest of our lives reaching back to the stuff of childhood  honesty  hope  passion, untethered  rest  wonder  drive, unfettered  We are already  Who we are Becoming  You don't have to go, so much  as you have to return  Home