A Bunch of Things I Want You to Know

Sundays really were not meant for doing anything. Especially when church is cancelled (or rather relocated) and you can sleep in and it’s sunny but not hot for the first time in a week. And your husband toasts you a bagel and you got new yarn in the mail and you washed your hair last…

Wanted: buyer for my childhood (home)

One week in the middle of May 2011 I graduated from Highschool. That week started with a 4-ish hour drive south to the Twin Cities on Tuesday to meet with my college adviser and register for classes, then the drive back home. On Thursday we practiced how to graduate, including trying on our flat hats…

I am proud of this weird yarn patch

I am teaching myself to weave. I’m not sure why, but I’m filled with inspiration and motivation to learn this skill and use it to make beautiful and/or functional woven things for myself and others. At first, I thought, “Chill, this is gonna be just like calligraphy and you’re gonna get in over your head.”…

Say/Mean

A poem I wrote when I was twenty years old. “I’m fine” I need time to figure out how I feel. I need you to know what’s wrong because that’s how I measure if you care at all. I’m dying, I’m dead, I need to sleep for a hundred years, just go away. “I’m tired”…

Duluth

It was laundry day for him. He was on the phone with me as I drove up, guiding me through the last couple turns. He came up from the basement as I shut off my car, answered the door wearing shorts. Hugged me. The entryway was dark, the kitchen frigid and bare — the whole…

Writer with a capital Wuh

At some point toward the end of earning my English degree, it occurred to me that there was a fundamental discrepancy between myself and my peers. I listened during class discussions, I saw all the hours put into drafts, I observed body language, tone of voice, diction, and I realized something. At some indeterminate point…

By Way of Explanation: Closing my Business

As you can see, I haven’t posted anything on my professional Instagram for about three months. That last post was around the time my heart was understanding something my brain wouldn’t yet agree with — I was not meant to run my own business. For some context: I adore creating things. I inherited my creative…