121 columns later and this is my final piece to appear in the now-closed Warroad Pioneer, a small-town newspaper that had survived for over a century. If read chronologically, they tell the winding story of loss and heartbreak, growth and hope.
I stood a good ways back watching the huge balm of gilead before she fell. Up here, where they grow like dandelions, it’s easy to dismiss these trees as junk wood or “trash trees” as I’ve heard them called. But this peaceful old dame has healing ointment in her veins, salves for human wounds if it’s processed right. And she’s surely seen twice as many summers as I. Perhaps Iris, the graduating kindergartener, and I will count the rings later to verify. Continue reading ““You’ve Got to Stand for Something or You’ll Fall for Anything.””
The Warroad Pioneer (the small-town newspaper I write for) is going out of business.
This column is one I didn’t want to write, so I’ll keep it brief (haha) and get it out of the way this week instead of next.
I’ve never been good at Goodbye’s. Sometimes I skip them altogether. But writing this column meant too much to me to not say a few words. Continue reading “A Fond Farewell”
Column 119 – As a new mother, trying to reconcile the existence of both infinite love and prevalent evil proves futile. Life right now is about my baby’s bright smile. Just as it should be.
The sound, soft and reminiscent, didn’t register at first. As wakefulness spread across my body like a good brandy warming the belly, I realized the novel sound was a first spring rain. The ground lay white with snow still, our woods gray and dreary. But to hear and see the rain from the vantage of first morning’s light felt delicious, almost exhilarating. Continue reading “The Bidding of Love”
Column 118 – Many things, but mostly my aching hips at 4-months postpartum, led me to a carnivorous trial diet. I went from veg-heavy SAD, to “Eat Meat, Drink Water.” Here’s what happened in the first two weeks.
Normally, I wouldn’t share anything like this after such a short time, but two weeks into a new way of eating and I’m excited enough about the healing I’m experiencing that I want to talk about it. Continue reading “My Hips Led Me Here”
Column 117 – The world is changing…but not fast enough.
Mud season is nearly upon us. Or, rather, under us. Soon it’ll be tracked in on muck boots, on the back of everyone’s pant legs, coating our vehicles and painting our progress towards spring. This time of year the snow is going, but not fast enough. Or so my mind whispers when I imagine putting the boots away and having the freedom of leaving home in mere flip flops or even barefoot. Continue reading “Not Fast Enough”
March 8th snuck up on us. Busy with the wee babe and the six-year old, we were surprised by our Sobriversary this year. Last year felt like a major accomplishment; this year felt like just another day.
Because it was.
At three years sober, we’re well–settled into a life without alcohol. That old life and who we used to be feels very much in the past. So much so, that at times I look at my ever-present ups and downs and wonder if I truly am better off. I still experience depression. I still have much to learn as a parent. I still have a messy house. I still have weight to lose. I still don’t accomplish everything I’d like to. Continue reading “Three Years Sober and Counting”
Several times over the past week I sat down to write about the serious topics at hand and it just didn’t work. I thought I was ready, and I am, but life as it tends to do had other plans.
When it comes to writing, I’ve learned not to force it. It’s no good if I do. The words will come when they’re ready. When conditions are right. Like the weather. Or spring blooms. Or a good bowel movement.
“Mom, why is there poop on the carpet?” the six-year old asked loudly. Continue reading “Surrounded”