And I didn’t know the earwig was alive until I squeezed the mop out in the sink for the second time.   It had been floating in a dirty...

My mom had done her part to keep me off psychedelics by repeatedly relaying the story about the time that guy spiked her Coca Cola. She...

Every morning, I go into the bathroom and with my makeup bag write the only fiction possible for me—my face—so when my iphone crashed the...

I’m not Cherokee but I was reminded of the battle cry sentiment “today is a good day to die”/Yutta Hey. The words weren’t fatalistic but...

Gabor Mate saying the valuable things we need to reflect on. Trauma isn’t just evacuations or poverty or gun violence and war; if you’re...

I didn’t expect to be crying when the knock on the door finally came so the lady passing me the vase with a “Good morning! Here are your...

And it was a shapeless voyage. Underplanned; underfunded. Like that time in my twenties when my boyfriend and I camped up and down the...

I've never cried so hard as that September day in 2007 when James drove his moving truck down our street. He was moving away from Salt...

<p>And I didn’t know the earwig was alive until I squeezed the mop out in the sink for the second time. It had been floating in a dirty bowl when I’d done the dishes. And I’d thought “what a terrible way to go.” Drowning. In the panic of not having air, the one thing capable [&hellip;]</p>

<p>It’s like the entire world right now is a confrontation, for which within varying degrees of connection we’re all coming to see one another’s deepest vulnerabilities and sadness. And I’m trying to get ahead of it for my kids’ sake. Because I’ve worked hard to process my personal grief into the productivity of seeing the [&hellip;]</p>

<p>7/4/2016: Diary of a 4th of July Worked (all felines: Izzy, Jack, Piper, Clark, Lucy, Darko, Todd, Burt, Mica—love them all); Graham and Lauren come over, Ellen and Julia join, Ellen’s friend ending his Ramadan; foster kittens, hard lemonade, shitty Malbec, salsa, chips, guacamole, ohdeargodwhydidIeatsomuch; Ellen/Julia to meet her friend, Livy/Lauren go to that little [&hellip;]</p>

<p>I was kept up all night by Julia’s new dog whining and feel spit out so when the young man at Jiffy Lube in the greasy jacket with no nametag gazes up at the TV while casually sipping coffee and says “Kelly Ripa looks so good for her age. What is she, like, 50?”, my [&hellip;]</p>

<p>On October 17, 1989, I was riding my bike home from my Clinical Psychology class at UC Davis, looking forward to watching the Bay Bridge World Series Game 3—San Francisco Giants vs. Oakland A’s—on TV with my boyfriend, when the earthquake struck. The Loma Prieta earthquake. I didn’t even feel it.   The 5:35 game [&hellip;]</p>

<p>And it&#8217;s morning, and I’m walking Kora in downtown Salt Lake City, close to the big temple. It’s the last two days I’m sitting for her family because they’re moving to Park City so I am feeling that—saying goodbye to Kora as well as their cats, Twix and Breezy—and confronting the dynamic nature of life [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Today this group is headed to the Best Friends Adoption Center. We ended up naming them Salzburg, Linz, Wels, Vienna and Austria.&nbsp; Picked up on May 8th, from Best Friends&#8211;described as &#8220;5 shy-ish kittens&#8221;&#8211;one of them got so upset on our way home, they pooped in the carrier.&nbsp; We never have any real idea when [&hellip;]</p>

<p>(Written In memoriam to 2020 and All Time)   9/17/19: The dream was that [Someone I greatly respect and admire] and I were sitting at a rectangle outdoor table in a small private garden. A tree was to his left and he was across from me—sitting at the head of the table—and the sun was [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Come see me, Sophie, as you&#8217;re walking the blue twilight between worlds. Come see me, in that dream land, when the pain disappears and the body absorbs into stars, and we can behold the sun as it rises on this first new day. Come see me,From your world beyond breath, when the boldness of your [&hellip;]</p>

And somehow from the ins and outs of synchronicity, the day before Livy’s birthday—November 30th—I somehow begin melding with The...

<p>I’m in my car, sweaty after a day of working hard, and surrounded by a bunch of shit like a mobile hoarder with a windshield so cracked it’s a Rorschach blot. And it’s the night I start reclaiming my ankles from the bloat shit-eating (from lack of time) has attacked me with so I’m headed [&hellip;]</p>

<p>Last night at the theater watching Mamma Mia again, my youngest, Livy, reached over the seat in a poignant part to grab my hand and in the dark I looked to her and her mouth moved in words of gratitude, telling me that, as a mother, I’d always been there for her. And as the [&hellip;]</p>