Category: Fragments


The Box of Paint

Years ago my sister-in-law gave me a big wooden box filled with old oil paints. It had belonged to her grandfather who was an avid painter. It was also one of his many boxes of paint taking up room in her garage. Needing space to make a rock wall for her husband and a video game area for her boys she gave this particular box … Read More The Box of Paint

Of Heat and Rain

It is 106° right now as I sit on my back porch listening to the spray of the misters trying their best but failing to cool me off.  A pre-storm wind has come up blowing the masses of tiny droplets away from me. It’s alright, they would evaporate the second they touched my skin anyway. One of my Little’s arm floaties rolls across the … Read More Of Heat and Rain


Are You Who You Want to Be?

My husband and I are piecing together a two-year plan to sell our house and buy a new build. Right now we are patching and painting. A fresh clean coat of paint always makes me feel good but it also accentuates the old things in our house – the old doors, the old lighting fixtures, the old faucets, the old bathrooms that really need … Read More Are You Who You Want to Be?


Why I Write

Last week and part of this week were pretty much a creative waste. I wasn’t able to write anything because my mind was consumed with worry about things I truly have no control over. While procrastination and worry are nothing new in my world, I was struck by a distinct contrast between the times I do create against the times I don’t. When I … Read More Why I Write


Going with the Flow

Can I be totally honest you? I have no idea what I’m doing. I went to school for Fine Art and failed English 101… twice. I can’t organize or prioritize to save my life. There are bits and pieces of stories scribbled on scraps of paper shoved into journals all over my house. There is no map for where I want this blog to … Read More Going with the Flow



It’s happening again. I feel lost in the present and afraid of the future so my mind is frantically flipping through the past. My body sits here in the sun.  Birds chirp in the trees overhead. My fellow customers of the coffee shop chat with each other creating an incoherent bubbly sound that competes with the rush of traffic on the other side of … Read More Searching


A Summer Long Ago

It is 5:30 in the evening. I’m cooking tacos for dinner in my blue and white kitchen while my husband and little daughter play in the other room. I’ll be forty in a handful of years; a thought I keep trying to push away despite its persistent stubbornness. How did I get here, to this age? Have I done enough? Have I squandered my … Read More A Summer Long Ago