I’m writing this from the middle of it—somewhere close to the bottom, I hope—but I won’t publish until I’m at least far enough through that I can look behind me. So if you’re reading this and it seems heavy and you feel like I need professional help or as though you must urgently tell me something to rescue me, know that I appreciate you and also that I’m okay. If I’m not okay then I won’t publish this. It will be published posthumously, by either Gabe or Beth, whichever one finds this funnier first. I’m having what I can only assume is some kind of long form anxiety attack. I…
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When Baby Cries Make You Superwoman
That feeling rises up from the gut. A fullness that tightens bones and organs and reaches my throat like a noose. Things are piling up and toppling over and my hands are far too small to catch it all. I am not big enough for this. I’m not mature enough. I’m not wise enough. I’m not disciplined enough and I don’t have enough. And just when my heart starts pounding he cries from the other room and I have to take a break from my worry to tend to his. Those delicious little arms wrap tight around his Momma’s neck while he forgets his nightmare and softens, whimpers, nuzzles in.…
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Light Like Lavender
Someone once told me that she was glad to be done with her 20s. I was 20 at the time and she looked at me with soft pity and said, “Oh man, twenties are the hardest. Just wait until your thirties, they are way better. You know yourself, you don’t care as much what other people think, it’s just better.” I could have hugged her. Or gotten her flowers. Or introduced her to a puppy to cuddle. Because at the time my husband was on month 9 out of 15 in Afghanistan and I had moved home to escape ghosts. I was acutely aware that I had no idea who…
