In Rewilding Motherhood, accepting an invitation to hold tension between what we think we want and what is currently being asked of us helps us forfeit resistance…
Hue of Memories
The text from my sister left me shaken. The past I thought I knew unravelled a little mo
On Other Mothers, T-shirts, and Thankfulness
Motherhood is terrific and terrifying and wonderful and woeful and we need all the help we can get.
Who are the other mothers in your life, helping you find your way? Have you thanked them lately? May is a good time to do so.
Sentimental Lady (May the fourth be with you)
Music has the power to bring us back to any moment in time from the past. It’s like a time capsule that can be opened by a few simple notes.
The Blueberry Baby
Have you ever told stories that later came true? Or have you ever listened to other people’s stories and felt you somehow absorbed them, changing your life forever?
May is Motherhood Memoir Month- Welcome
During this Mother’s Day month, consider writing out stories from your past, present, or future even, then share them as a gift with your mother, child, or self.
Another May Down
…there is something about writing a personally challenging piece (on motherhood, of course) that feels deeply refining, like fire.
Mother’s Only Brother
He went off to the Korean War and never came back When her only brother went off to the Korean War as a medic, my mother was a junior in high school. They lived in the small town of Geneseo, Illinois, southwest of Chicago, near Davenport, Iowa. Born late in…
The Ekphrastic Letter
Dear Mother,
I should’ve cleaned your fingernails before you died. I know dirty fingernails never bothered you, but in that last photo I took of you where your hands wrap around the ceramic mug of fresh coffee I brought with real cream, instead of the styrofoam cup of instant with powder packets you’d been getting—-in that picture the gleam is back in your eyes, feisty again, but a dark, dirty rim lines each fingernail. I regret not offering to clean your nails, but at the time it didn’t occur to me. You had lots of life left in you. You could’ve cleaned your own fingernails….
The Mom who Showed Up
She wasn’t the mother she’d wanted, but she was the mother who’d shown up (from Wildcat by Amelia Morris). What does that prompt you to write?