Nipped

I have this distinct childhood memory: I’m six or so, outside our little frame house with a big, wide porch, next to the azaleas whose buds we nipped before they could bloom. Everything is sort of floating by my eyes—I’m spinning. I am realizing, smartly, that you don’t need to go to church to be […]

When Death Meets You at Retreat

Last month, I was at a writing retreat in a space designed to nurture creativity and clarity. I was in a space where death was not allowed to be, where I was supposed to be insightful, to reflect peacefully, to swim in my internal depth and cherish the weight of my words and ideas. The […]