I am sacrificing.

“I’ll leave the two of you to look at these then.” Mr. Pressy closed the accordion room separator to give the two women some privacy while they chose between the models.

“Our go-between is gone. You’re going to have to talk to me now,” Lorna Williams said as she stood next to her sister. The ride over had been as silent as the past ten years. She ( Read more... )

I wrote my first Livejournal entry on April 7, 2001. I was 16 and blissfully ignorant about many things. A quick glance at those first few entries was enough to make me cringe and click over to a different tab. But like many things that elicit that sort of response, I return and I remember what it was like to be a 16-year-old girl who had no other ( Read more... )

The first time was New Mexico, 2012. The casita sat at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, north of Taos. I rented it for the week and arrived early on a November evening. The sun was already beginning to dip low on the western horizon and the place glowed that very particular shade of pinky-orange, a slash of neon looking like a crack in ( Read more... )

There are a couple of things I need to explain.

1. I got a divorce.

2. I stepped away from the religious tradition in which I was raised.

On the surface, they’re not so much related to each other, but neither would have happened if the other wasn’t occurring simultaneously. I actually did the second thing first, although it was more of a process. ( Read more... )

Have you prayed about it? She asks me this after I have bared my heart, looking for some solace or understanding in the eyes and experience of a woman who has been married much longer than I have been. There are no words of comfort and I am caught off guard, my voice catching. “Of course I have.”

“Well, all in His timing. You have to show some ( Read more... )

No one told me I'd take you home.

I had so many plans and so many heroes. People I wanted to emulate. Anne Shirley. John Keating. Mr. Feeny. Christy Huddleston. Ms. Honey.

I imagined that I'd be the kooky English teacher who showed up in costume and regaled you with readings from the bard.

But this is not the teacher you require.

I would introduce ( Read more... )

Exposition

I used to dream of what it would be like to have my grandmother in my life in some way beyond a biannual trip to her indoor flea market on Lancaster Avenue in Fort Worth, Texas. We rarely visited her house, so I can only remember one with any kind of clarity-a screened in porch, the white paint was chipping off all over, and it smelled ( Read more... )

doing it.

my blog is back.


( Read more... )