Get bumped

How do you say my name. Everyone pronounces it differently. My parents can't remember who I was supposed to be.


The time for over-thinking is over.



This will be the best part of my day: Walking down the hill with Hanna trotting beside me, the leash looped in her smiling mouth, as a gust of wind blows up from behind and a wave of rustling Aspen leaves overtakes us like a golden river flowing.

And this: Whirling and twirling to the rhythm of my feet until I lost myself, until I found myself.


What I remembered is that I am safe when I am in me. What I remembered is that I still know how to be free.




Tomorrow I had planned to take Hanna for a long walk in the meadow above 10,000 feet, but the bottoms of my feet are raw and my ankles stiff and maybe even a little bit swollen after a bath. We shall have to wait and see.



I appreciate your honesty.


For a late-night snack I am tipping my neck back and pouring frozen fruit from my water glass into the back of my throat. I catch a strawberry between my molars and pause, letting my breath melt the thin layer of ice still coating its skin. I chew it lightly and swallow.




This song was unexpecting.

I remember running up the long incline past my high school, so far removed, finally, that it hardly feels like it was me who used to be trapped behind those walls.


You just keep peaking and peaking.


I think I helped them feel good with my offering. I think they were smiling at me because I was beautiful.




What I remembered is to keep moving.


I mean really sit and think about it!