I have one houseplant, a peace lily, probably, which I was given my last day of teaching. Its name is Wolverine, for it is practically indestructible (at least for a few decades) no matter if I water or don’t water, if I feed or don’t feed, if I give it too much or too little sun, if it’s cold or warm.
(more…)Category: Writing
Can't Find Comfort in Kale
They – so many theys – say to keep a record. Write it down. For posterity. For history. For sanity.
During this awful beginning, I try to jot down a note. Dribs and drabs. A minute here, a half-hour there. What’s happening? Am I ok when things are not?
Short answer: no. Who is, really?
Fully aware I am not on the front lines of anything but my little family and their well-being. My little notes contain no first-hand horror, and for that, I am grateful and profoundly aware that is not the case for many.
So here are tiny dandelion seeds I’m blowing out there. Messy weeds I’m spreading everywhere in an attempt to figure out where to land in this new reality of absolutes.
(more…)Three Words
Sometimes the writing is an exercise in confronting my deficiencies as a writer. And because I am a writer, that easily spirals into thoughts of inadequacy, worries of having “missed my chance,” and wondering if I will ever meet the potential everyone thought I had when I was eight. (I was quite an eight-year-old. Weren’t we all?)
(more…)
Jackie Pick 