lent, part iii: resurrection.

New buds on cacti bloom slowly. Unfortunately, these new buds aren't the end of our original story. As it turned out, the cactus at the end of our street--the one that the winter storm had damaged, the one that they pruned back to a wooden stump--got ripped out of the ground shortly after. The winter …

lent, part ii: abscission.

They finally cut the dying cactus down. Disoriented and deadened by the winter storm we had in February, its pads had already begun to fall off on their own, rotting dark, stinking stains into the sidewalk. Now, it is only a stump, not even a tenth of its original size. I am shocked how little …

about that novel.

Though it's taken many years, encouraging friends, and self-affirmations written in Sharpie on spiral notecards, I've slowly become more comfortable with calling myself a writer. It wasn't always easy. I felt guilty describing myself in a way that felt more aspirational than truthful. Even now, the title feels easier to claim when I've had a …

begin again.

There's nothing quite like the feeling of starting over. It's a fresh wind on a wide-open road, the sun warming your face, an attentive curiosity to all things new. My husband Jack and I recently moved all the way across the country from the north shore of Chicago to Austin, Texas, so this feeling is …