In which I don’t understand Syria

This week, Egypt is figuring out their first election, and, you, Syria, you are burying your babies in Houla. I don’t know you very well, Syria, but today, my heart is with you. I can hardly bear to look at…

Read More

In which it is this one

This one. This one moment first thing in the morning, when you swing your legs out of the minivan, reaching back to grab the two dark coffees from the tray, to hand one over to your waiting sister-friend, there’s no…

Read More

In which I advocate for being a person

How about this? How about when someone is before us, a real, live person, suffering, we be a person? Don’t be a defender of an institution. Don’t be an office. Don’t be a title. Don’t be a minimizer, a gloss-over-er,…

Read More

In which it’s the morning hours

    Every morning, I remain awake after Joe wakes up to use the washroom at 5 AM, and I watch the trees outside of our window. I listen to the water running in the creek at the bottom of…

Read More