Putting on the unfinished knitted sock

A week ago, I took a day to unpack the contents of six boxes that had been stored in the crawl space of my former life. They included journals, photos, mementos, books, and those treasures that have no obvious category. Some of these boxes were filled with the items I’d saved from my mother, sister and grandmothers’ lives. There was also a box of stuff from my childhood and college years that I hadn’t looked through in a few decades. I chose to listen to unsentimental upbeat music and podcasts and this did help me to not get completely lost. I did read through two of the journals, in their entirety - the one from 9th grade and the one from my first year of motherhood. They were incredibly revealing, as was the whole unpacking process. (to continue, click photo..)

Living with the rat

I had a hard time writing the word up there.

Rat. rrrrrraaatttt. rAt. RAT. EuUUughhhhhhhhh!!!       Rat.       Rat.        RaaaaT. 

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A love note to my sister

Dear Bhu,

I was on Pinterest the other day and your name popped up as someone that I follow there. I hadn't looked at your boards since you left us four years ago. They are full of ethereal, black and white, edgy photos. I felt like I did when I used to look at your photography portfolio - that there is a deep layer of poignancy underneath even the brightest of moments on earth. You had a unique ability to embrace this sadness in your work.

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When I planted a dream, back on the farm

The first thing I ever pinned on my pinterest style board, probably about ten years ago, was this pair of turquoise Fluevog shoes. I could not then imagine ever having the money to spend on a $200 pair of shoes. I was an organic farmer's wife and an unschooling mom, so was expected to be in Birkenstocks. I actually wore Crocs, an ugly green pair that I had bought in Las Vegas while there on a paid-for bridal party trip for a good friend.

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Old Friends

I have known Hilary since 4th grade. But when we reunited last May, we hadn’t seen one another for over thirty years. The words and laughter tumbled out of us so fiercely that after only three hours together we had to separate and have a nap before continuing.

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Dear Jesse, 

It has been two weeks since you drove off to UGA for your first semester of college. That afternoon, after I watched your car pull out, and I rolled the garbage can up the hill, and went inside, it was very quiet.

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Dear Gillen, 

You have been 21 for a little over a week. And I want to reiterate how impressed I am by the man you have become.

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