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On seasonal relationships, small acts, and the ripples we never get to see I looked them up on a whim, really. I was visiting my parents, staying in the neighborhood where I used to live when I was young and broke and piecing myself together after something I didn’t yet have words for. Something about…
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There is a wall in my home office that tells a certain story about me. My bachelor’s degree, with high honors. My law degree. Certificates for Phi Beta Kappa, Phi Delta Phi… Copies of law review volumes with my name printed inside as chief articles editor. A pro bono service award. Most days, these things…
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My first SART call came on my sixth shift. Five shifts of waiting — of sitting with my phone, mentally rehearsing, wondering what I would say and how I would say it — and then, finally, the call. I drove to the hospital in the dark with my heart doing something complicated in my chest.…
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A companion piece to “Stepping Into the Training Room: My Journey to Becoming a SART Volunteer Advocate“ I did it!!! After weeks of evening sessions, full Saturdays, skill practices that made my heart race, and more than a few moments of wondering whether I was truly ready for this — I walked out of the…
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There was a time when my entire garden was a stoop. A small landing outside my front door, a staircase, a few square feet of sunlight. For nearly ten years, that was my outdoor space — and I made it into something. Hanging baskets spilling over with flowers and strawberries. Pots crowded with basil and…
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The Exits I Built For a long time, my evenings had a ritual. Not an intentional one. Not the kind you design or feel proud of. More like a groove worn into the floor by the same path walked too many times. I would come home — from a hard day, a frustrating meeting, a…
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Every morning, I dragged myself out of bed with a heaviness that had nothing to do with being tired. On paper, I had everything I’d worked toward—a legal career that perfectly matched my decade of property management experience, clients who needed my expertise, financial stability. I was succeeding. So why did I feel like I was…
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A Winter Morning and a Quiet Book This morning I walked the dog in the rain. Southern California rain — the kind that feels almost apologetic, soft and uncertain, like it isn’t quite sure it belongs here. And when I looked up toward the horizon, there was Big Bear, snow-covered and distant and somehow completely…
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At the start of this year, I bought myself a set of plain stationery. Just notecards and envelopes — nothing fancy. I wasn’t sure exactly what I would do with them. Then my Crisis Intervention Training began. For just about sixty-six hours over several weeks, I sat in a room at the Center for Community…
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After slogging through White Trash and what feels like months of dense nonfiction, I needed something different—something quick, fun, and most importantly, hopeful. Enter Kirsten Miller’s Lula Dean’s Little Library of Banned Books, a novel that delivered exactly what I was craving. Set in the small Georgia town of Troy, the story centers on Lula Dean, a self-appointed…