What She Passed Down Without Knowing
January thirty-first. I published it this morning. The draft that had been sitting in a folder since early January, the one I kept opening, reading two sentences of, and then clos…
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The Tuesday That Didn't Feel Like One
January twentieth. It was a Tuesday. That is the part I keep coming back to. Not a Friday with its built-in permission, not a Saturday with nowhere to be the next morning. A Tuesd…
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The Part Where You Ask a Stranger How to Unclip
January seventh. That is when I clipped into a spin bike for the first time and had to immediately ask the person next to me, a woman I had never met, who had clearly done this ma…
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The Thing the Stranger Said
December twenty-ninth. It was Simone's idea to get coffee, which is how I know it was the right call, she has a reliable instinct for when sitting still somewhere that isn't our r…
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The Part You Don't Plan For
December eighteenth. The paper hats were Simone's idea. She found them at the bottom of a kitchen drawer, the kind of find that shouldn't be surprising and somehow always is, and…
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Every Target, No Exceptions
December seventh. I keep returning to a specific order of events: the body moves, then the mind notices, then, much later, you write about it. The aerial silks class I dropped int…
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What the Sketchbook Said Instead
November twenty-sixth. Thanksgiving morning. I opened the sketchbook with the specific intention of making the sixth drawing. I don't know when I decided there would be a sixth dr…
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The Blank Page Had a Lot to Say
November fifteenth. I opened the sketchbook this morning with a specific intention. Gerald's vine has moved again, not dramatically, but enough that the shadow it makes on the she…
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The Part Before You Think About It
November fourth. There is a flyer I favorite walked past six times on the corkboard outside the climbing gym, I know this because I remember noticing that it had one of those tabs…
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Before You Know That You're Known
October twenty-fourth. There is a particular kind of information that arrives slightly late, not late the way a text sits unread, but late the way a question about you reaches you…
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