I'm not a very independent person. Ever since I was little, I remember feeling anxious when my parents dropped me off alone somewhere--whether it was at the barn for my weekly riding lesson, or at a friend's house. Little things gave me butterflies: ordering food at a restaurant, knocking on doors (even when the occupants … Continue reading On Independence
Today's the day. My last day of work at my current job. I've had a lot of last days, each of them different and odd in their own respect. There was my last day as Apple Valley City's Tree Inspector. That one was fairly easy to leave--I'd been hired seasonally for a three month position, … Continue reading On last days
(Whoops! It's April and I still haven't published this. I have a very bad habit of writing things and then squirreling them away forever, never to see the light of day. Trying to break that habit: here's March's post!) March, the month of damp earth and soft air, has arrived. As temperatures have warmed, my … Continue reading March
We're in the throes of the rainy season here in Georgia. I'd never realized how many different types of rain there were: fine-misted droplets that float in the air, fat, frigid droplets that soak you clean through in minutes, full-on sluices that seem to fall from the sky in an unbroken stream. But this past … Continue reading On Confidence
When I was growing up, I loved to ask my parents questions about their lives. I was curious about everything: how they'd met. What adventures they'd gone on before we were born. If they knew they'd get married the first time they laid eyes on each other. Mostly, I was fascinated by their stories. But … Continue reading On the best day of my life
In Georgia, it's the season of hail like sea salt on the ground, and sunny, sleeveless days. This month I'm grateful for the twinkle lights in my office, that make it feel a little cozier--even with the blinds pulled tight to shield me while I pump. Even more so, I'm grateful for the people outside … Continue reading February
Right now I’m sitting at our kitchen table, and a baby is sitting on my lap, strapped to my chest by a carrier. He’s warm and soft and solid all at once, and his wispy hair tickles my chin--distracting me--as I type. We’ve been parents for over a month now, and I’m still trying to … Continue reading On Parenthood
