Wednesday, May 25, 2011


A path, leading. Like any other path, road, walk, drive. Leading somewhere. Anywhere.
Pure decadence.


I stopped. I finally stopped and pulled over. Camera poised to
capture the dogwood
Resting her image
so certainly on the stream below.


So small. So tender. Pushing through the rough facade
and topography of its environs
Surviving. Reaching up.


Another storm rolling in. Charcoal layered on
rumbling thunder. The air held the pungent
familiar scent of impending rain.


My dear friend's rockin' yellow rain boots.


Blowing some magic bubbles into the air.


One day, maybe two weeks ago, we finally had a day
of sun and cornflower blue sky.
I took this photo through the sunroof
of my car.
It makes me smile.

Monday, May 16, 2011


This day
This moment
the connectedness
builds to crescendo, filling me to
blissful overload

I sat
I hugged
the little boy
will surely shun
my affections
some day,
some moment

Hitting pause
Hitting stop
Feeling the weight of our time
laden with winged bricks
poised to depart
without notice

Moments stringing together
a chain
between now and then.

Heavy body
Full heart
Holding onto everything.
Long spindly legs with
stretching bruised legs
Bits of conversation
falling to the grass blades and
popping like soap bubbles.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

I Remember

I Remember....

I remember the way my mother’s feet tanned in the summer, except for that tiny dry patch just below her ankle bone.

I remember my first crush--a blond, tanned life guard and tennis pro at our club. He always wore a white swath of zinc oxide on his nose. I asked him if I could be his ball girl. He said yes. I was eight.

I remember the hypnotic morse code of Henry's heart beating through his chest and into mine as we snuggled in the light blue glider. The well-worn arms were stained with spit-up and baby lotion. I remember that I didn't care.

I remember when I was in seventh grade and Josh asked me out. I remember my answer, Yes!, escaping my lips as I heard the snickers and laughter from the mean girls who put him up to the task.

I remember that in elementary school, I could close my eyes and know, based on the heady scent of freshly cut grass, that the end of the school year lurked imminently.

I remember the rusted hole in the trunk of our car that acted as a portal for runaway groceries.

I remember the first time Abby looked up at me and furrowed her seconds-old brow.

I remember my first designer tennis shoes—leather Nike’s with a sky blue swoosh. (Important: They were most definitely NOT the generics from JC Penny.)

I remember the first time I took my husband's hand; I figured I didn't really ever want to let go.

I remember a summer night, lying on the itchy blanket in the backyard with thick, summer grass tickling my ankles and mosquitoes feasting on my legs. I stared at the stars and felt pleased that they sparkled their ancient glow for me. I felt like I took part in a vast secret.

I remember watching in amazement as my brother's wrist hung limply from his arm. I remember my stomach churning because I loved him so much and just wanted my love to fix him, just like that.

I remember stuffing the jump rope into the top of my one-piece white terry cloth romper. The red ties strained at my shoulders. I also remember my mother taking me back to the store and every bit of my body shaking as I returned the stolen jump rope to the store manager.

I remember squinting at the stick, willing the two lines to appear.


This weekend, I got to spend three days learning about writing memoir from one of the greats,Dani Shapiro. Not only did I get to delve into the writing craft, I was flanked by dear friends. More on this phenomenal experience to come.

One of the many thought-provoking writing exercises that Dani gave us was to write (without stopping) for 10 minutes and to begin all sentences with "I remember." (An exercise inspired by Joe Brainard's Classic, I Remember). My friends, Lisa, Lindsey, Christine and Sarah and I all found this both fun and surprising - we discovered that we wrote down both long-cherished memories and ones percolate that we hadn't realized we remembered.

We think this is a powerful and revealing exercise, and wanted to share a few of our "I Remembers" as well as invite you to participate. Please join us - either by writing a post on your blog about what you remember or by adding a few of your memories to our comments. Start with five "I Remembers" and if you get a good rhythm and flow, keep going! If you write your own post, please come back and link it here - and we look forward to reading and responding to your memories. And please be sure check out Katrina Kenison's beautiful I Remembers, dedicated to her mother.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

I Am Enough

I first learned about Tracey Clark's I Am Enough Collaborative last year. I was smitten. Through her encouraging collection of shared stories, she encourages us all to realize that today, right now, we are enough. That's right. With dark circles, dusty floors, sick kids, bills to pay and word to type, I Am Enough. So are you.

I'm honored today to share my I Am Enough story at Tracey's I Am Enough Collaborative.

When you're there, please take some time to read the inspiring stories of other women, all of whom are Enough.