the again-and-again of it*

When I move the book onto the table and it makes a noise that startles her, Hanna knows what medicine she needs. More belly rubs


When the worry escalates I stand up, move around, say, let's remember to focus on what we can control. Then I read a story about a man who pretended not to know what potatoes are and laugh until I cry


When I read Leslie Jamison's essays I realize what I want to do with my life. She is masterful. This is the closest I've come to idolization since I first discovered Lydia Davis. I have five years for refinement



I'm staying inside a lot these days, aren't we all, when I venture out it's to take Hanna walking up the ridge, far above the houses, or down alongside the river flowing faster and brown with snowmelt. When I go outside I feel my feet on the earth, I see the trees are still standing, two red-tailed hawks screech overhead.

Mary Oliver: Meanwhile, the world goes on.


I am endeavoring to shine whatever light I can. Let's keep writing, let's keep creating, because the human spirit is nourished by art and our spirits are in need of nourishing



I have been working, I have been trying to do, too much. It has been apparent to everyone around me and though I said I knew it, I have only just come to know. It has been A LOT. For nearly a decade my workload has been inhuman. I am tired. I am ready to come back to life, and grateful for it.


The First Healing took place in a cement-block room in a violent city in Guatemala, me alone with no windows or screens or sunlight writing to save my life. This time is different; it is slower, more circuitous, it is less clear, at all times, whether or not I am climbing up. Still, there are clues even here in the dark: I am crying more, because I am feeling more, I am doing less, I am writing again, I am on a path again, I am, in so many more ways, taking care of myself. I am focusing on the gains as I fill in the gaps.




I say: I worry that I've wasted my life. 

He says: Alton Brown also puts nutritional yeast on his popcorn.


So you see. The stars are just like us.







*thanks to Leslie Jamison, Make It Scream, Make It Burn