Back to writing fiction!
Losing my religion has complicated my relationship with my parents.
Grief is not the fence we hop over. It’s the ocean we swim through.
What does it mean to stay when all I’ve ever done is run?
Between the lines on a grocery list, nestled somewhere after Lysol but before arugula, is all the tiny ways you live your life. Your idiosyncrasies from how you clean the … Continue reading Mundane Intimacy
Wouldn’t it be nice to be the reason someone else grew tall?
To my little sisters
I am not my family’s narrator. I don’t house their voices somewhere in my larynx. I cannot speak for them. My family is like everyone else’s: raucous and dysfunctional. We … Continue reading Brother: an epilogue, a past tense, a Stillborn Sibling
An essay about a daughter, her father, and the love that lives within tense relationships.
I’m always asking myself if I’ll hurt in the same way my mother does.