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Jenna’s Writing
During our last house cleaning surge I found a cardboard box with “Jenna writing” scribbled on the outside. I couldn’t open it; felt like Pandora’s box of tears and rage. They say nothing bad happens to a writer….maybe that’s true on paper. I don’t think grief is an unusual place for creativity to ignite, though […]
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Scattered
I think I have written and shared “this” poem about six different ways. Do we ever stop looking for ourselves? Anytime I write about my “parts” I get a flashback to Ashlee Simpson’s song “Pieces of Me” and it makes me want to never share any of it. Thanks for reading anyways! I see clothes […]
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“Boring” Life
After my dad died, I remember my mom saying that she just wanted her boring life back. The one where they went to the same Italian restaurant every Friday and kissed every night when he got home from work. The one where she would fall asleep on the couch while they watched yet another bad […]
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Poppi Stories
Every night before bed, Maisley and Coura want to hear stories from when I was younger. I often tell Poppi stories because they make me happy and keep him alive in their tiny worlds. When this one came to me tonight, l desperately wanted to call him and reminisce, so instead I’m writing it here. […]
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In Loving Memory
The sting of seeing your photo still hits at odd timesHow did that frame become the closest my eyes will get to seeing you again?How did your name become something to memorialize rather than someone to call when my B.O.B. tire goes flat? We read the names and tributes on the benches at the beach:An […]
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To you, Dadio
Where are you? When I’m angry at you for leaving. When a shit-storm is passing through our family and the world. When the comfort of home is far out of reach. When I look through hundreds of recent photos and you’re not in one. When nothing makes sense, nothing goes right and grief rages on. […]
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This Father’s Day
We went through your old things; report cards, photo books, trophies, letters. When you were 19 you noted that having an exciting life was a 1 of importance to you (18 being the least). I’d say it definitely wasn’t boring. Did you have any big ragrets? Not even a single letter? The back house smells […]
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Note to Self
waves of grief surges of birth toddler tantrums that feeling of panic like river rapids will it ever end? it always ends.
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First Impressions
When I first saw her she was all stick and bones. Her thin trunk, merely the keeper of weathered branches. Had she just lost everything or was she just about to bloom? I couldn’t see her whole story, I just knew she had one. She didn’t seem worried, confident it was just a season; fruitful […]
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Altered Latitude 