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buoy is it hard: Notes on grief
When I decided I wanted to “share my feelings” on a public forum, I wasn’t expecting the way I’d feel after. I had lofty, self-imposed goals. Write every couple of days. Get inspired. Maybe even inspire someone else. Instead, I published my first post and quit for months. The grief that comes with a house
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when life goes up in flames: finding relief in fire
Growing up, my mom always had candles around the house. The air was constantly filled with the scents of warm apples, spicy cinnamon, amber—basically anything that smelled how the color burgundy looks. It was a depth and warmth that seemed to make up for where that warmth didn’t exist elsewhere. The candles didn’t just appear.
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human again 