I wrote this piece at the end of summer two years ago! It’s both fitting and funny that somehow almost all of it still holds true today (with just one tweak: my older child goes to elementary school now): My days are mainly composed of routine tasks: I’m up early every morning—whether I’m ready or…Read more Summer’s Golden Flourish
memory
Half Lives
It is early morning. The world is dark blue and cold. A thin pale line traces a horizon that wasn’t there a moment before, when the darkness made no distinction of earth and sky. The sky lightens faster, from dove grey to the silver of vacant mirrors. Rose-tinted edges rise up and spread out into…Read more Half Lives
Lasting Summer
My earliest memories make no logical sense, one moment I’m standing in a field of sugarcane, the next moment I’m with a flock of ladies in a churchyard, in another moment I‘m running up the front steps of home. The green cane stalks loom above me in my toddler height, bowing in the wind as…Read more Lasting Summer
Song of Seattle
Oysters, saltwater, kelp. When the first breeze hit me, full of enticing ocean scents, I was thrilled and perplexed. What would it be like to live here? Where the sea was a constant presence. Where the trees were dark, needled and looming. Where forests and hills were lush and abundant. Where the color green dazzled…Read more Song of Seattle
The Wall
I have the pleasure to announce today that an essay I have written has been published by The Scene and Heard, an online journal that contains thoughtful reflections on life in the form of art, poetry and creative writing. This is the first time I have been published! I am so thrilled! I must confess…Read more The Wall
The Wreck of the Hesperus
I remember the cool darkness as I stood backstage. My fingers were tingling, my stomach was churning, I was both excited and nervous—the classic symptoms of stage-fright that I was experiencing more and more that year. Mrs. Wozniak, my fourth-grade teacher, had nearly forgotten about the event in the auditorium that day. With just minutes to […]
When You’re Home
There is a patch of forest that stays with me. It wafts, it waits, it lingers, it lurks somewhere in my mind, behind my eyes, in my nostrils, under my fingertips—in my soul. A place I can always come back to, unchanged. The gate is always open. Whenever I enter it gathers me up, suffuses…Read more When You’re Home
1988
There was once no internet. That’s right, PCs were once uncommon! There was no Wikipedia, no search engines, and no smart phones. If you had a favorite TV show, you had to watch it on time and make sure as hell no one interrupted you. You had to wait until the commercial break to grab a snack…Read more 1988
A Glimpse to Hold
I caught a glimpse of my daughter the other day while I was walking down a narrow cobblestone street. It is one of those special passages, hundreds of years old, that seem to whisper: I have always been here and will always be here. My daughter was inside an elegantly restored building, by a window, glancing down at…Read more A Glimpse to Hold
A Light Circle 