Personal reflections and quiet thoughts, shared in the spirit of connection. These are the stories we carry and the ones we’re still learning to tell.
I didn’t plan to write this. Not like this. Grief isn’t neat or poetic. It doesn’t arrive with clean lines and tidy meaning. It just shows up. Some days it’s a whisper. Some days it sits on my chest. Since losing my husband, I’ve carried many things, sadness, anxiety, disbelief. But I’ve also carried groceries, […]
The Strength I Didn’t Choose Read More »
Sometimes, when I sit down to craft even with something simple like paper and glue my hands begin before my mind has caught up. They remember the shape of a fold, the rhythm of cutting, the soft weight of waterlogged pulp slipping through a screen. They know how to begin, even when I feel scattered.
What My Hands Remember Read More »
