reintroductions

this is me

Hello friends. I am going to skip the catch up and just dive in. I am glad you are here.

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I am a writer. I tell stories; made up ones (mostly in my head and mostly wrong) and very real ones. I express to show to the depth and breadth of what is possible: in myself and in the world around me. I am a way pointer, an encourager, a light “scientist” following fractals. This is me.

I am a daughter, or I was. My parents are both dead and the step ones they left behind have never seen me the way the two originals did. How could they? To one I am a sucker and the other a reminder of the worst version of themselves. I am an orphan to two very complex ghosts and hosts of my stories beginning.

I am a pie maker. Not a baker or chef, but a simple, classic, nostalgic lover of pie. I don’t discriminate, I love sweet and savory, actually anything you put in crust bound with love and butter, I’m in. The first rhubarb peeking out of the ground is my favorite. It is a summers worth of possibility peeking out of last years compost. Thrilling to watch what looks dead come alive to thrive and thrive and thrive, all summer long if you just pay a little attention to it. Like me.

I am becoming: a massage therapist, a student of enneagram, a better spouse and financial manager.

Do you know about letters from love?

Love, it’s been 7 hours and 13 days and a year give or take since you’ve met me here on the page. What would you have me know today?

Sweetheart, time is a trickster, a coyote. It’s job is to keep slippin slippin slippin into the future, but love? The future is RIGHT NOW (and now). Can you feel it? There is no time. I’ve been right here, talking with you, whispering soliloquies for you to set to music. Sing sweet love, please. Sing like you did before your first solo in 7th grade, The Rose. Sing it again. Put all of those old songs into a book and let em’ rip. Up and out, loud, so you can hear how very not alone you are.

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