It’d been a few days since I’d left the house. In the balmy weather, everything had grown. The ditch weeds were now taller than my children and I could’ve sworn entire trees had sprouted up in neglected lots.

We drove past the kids’ old school- past the graffiti’d bridge that now read “black lives matter”- and found the playground overtaken by a ( Read more... )

We put on flip flops and drive down to the creek that runs through a forest we’ve named Sasquatch Park. There are tree branches and overgrown root systems and fallen logs that act as seats and a playground. The water is cool and sparkles beneath dappled leaves. The kids race sticks and pinecones as they rush to a nearby waterfall, push heavy rocks ( Read more... )

A week ago I let out an animalistic howl

That felt generations old

And dug my nails into my thighs

Half moon teeth leaving skittish brown bruises

Today I sit in the sunheat

Colors radiating from flesh and returning to the sky

My children run on fresh mowed grass

Their cheeks like peaches

There is no other way to say it

So good to be away from Instagram with this always gnawing feeling that everything should be published and everything should be polished

And now I can just live

The kids and I read a whole book aloud over the last two days

I taught Emma how to make dinner

We had conversations about characters and good and evil

I am finally seeing the beauty in just ( Read more... )

Bumblebees in clover

My children swing with fortune tellers

Counting, predicting, believing in magic

The choke of smoke carried on the wind

Chalky fingers, scent-hungry bugs

Half-closed dandelions

Resting in the 4 o’clock shade

White blackberry flowers tempting

Blood hidden along the stems

Goose-flesh clouds drift above

Needly gray-green trees

Dark bogs, dogs ( Read more... )

The kids bring me orange poppies and dandelions

Wild hands on the wild weeds

The color of everything in their childhood-

Painted metal dump trucks, sand buckets, plastic doll hair.

It’s been a strangely nice day.

The boy says, “My flippin Rottweilers, this is heavy,”

as he pulls the water-filled basketball hoop across the yard.

We read for hours. The Lion ( Read more... )

A little past a month into quarantine.
( Read more... )

Last night it rained so hard that it woke me up in the middle of the night.
( Read more... )

Yesterday. James was playing and pretending he had an apartment. He was using real keys pretend to get into his place (his bedroom). Once he was inside, I went to the door, knocked, and said, “This is the landlord. Your rent is due.” He opened the door, simple stated, “Fuck,” then slammed the door again.

Today. Tony and I talking about some current ( Read more... )

Sad every night by 10

days into quarantine.

Heavy eyes

Weight of cats on my legs

It’s a warm grief

That sometimes feels like relief and gratitude

That sometimes feels like fear and a beast in my body trying to claw out