Tuesday, January 9, 2018

Complex Love

When I was young,
I thought love was simple.
And it was.
I would meet a beautiful stranger,
They would make me see the world a little differently,
Or just make me laugh,
Suddenly I was madly in love with them.
It was a pure love,
One that did not require reciprocation,
Or even acknowledgment.
And I still love that way today-
I still fall for beautiful strangers.

But now I am married,
My heart committed to a man I know so well.
It is not a simple love.
It's as complex as both our souls.
It requires work, compromise, and humility.
Like a mirror, it reflects and magnifies my mistakes.
It challenges me in ways I never thought was possible.
In this deep complexity emerges that is greater than our individuals 
Our love is not simple,

But it is beautiful in its complexity.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

If you have ever loved a tree

This may seem silly to you if you have never loved a tree, but I have loved many in my life. Growing up in my neighborhood, there was a small little park down from my house. A small stream maybe a foot deep meandered for a block and under a small foot bridge. The stream was lined with many trees, but there was one in particular that I loved.
It was a beautiful evergreen that sadly wept its branches in such a way that I could almost hide under them. I would spend hours playing under that tree and when I was older, I would often just sit on a rock under the protection of its sad branches.
Recently, I took my kids to this same park. The bridge was still there, the stream was smaller than I remembered, but my tree was gone. Someone had cut it down to a sad stump. My sitting rock was gone. I lovingly touch its stump, trying to calculate the years I had spent with the tree, in the rings that remained. My kids asked me what was wrong and I just sighed and said, "My favorite tree used to be here." Like an old lady who was mourning something sentimental, that means nothing to the new generation.

Sunday, March 15, 2015

The Determination of Life

It's a truth as old as time,
But every year it amazes me:
No matter how brutal the winter,
Spring always comes.
Small bright green life shoots out from the dead brown decay.
Plants want to grow.
With the first wave of sunshine,
I search around my garden for life.
I find new determined mint leaves.
New small wisps of chives peek out of the ground.
Every year, I am filled with hope.
I plant my peas and spinach seeds in the thawed soil.
Knowing that from this simple act, life WILL begin.

Friday, December 12, 2014


There are days when I feel so restless,
Can't stop thinking about your sweet lips.
Can't stop wishing,
When my hand carelessly brushes against my own body,
That it is your hand.
I touch my lips,
And wish they were touching you.
I close my eyes,
And image your chest pressed against my back.
My mind is useless,
Totally preoccupied with my desire for you.
I blush when other people talk to me,
Worried that they will know what I'm really thinking.
There is only one thing that will pull me out of this funk:
I need you now.

Monday, November 10, 2014


Sometimes I feel very weak,
I wish I could be strong all the time.
I wish I was as independent as my stubborn temperament would like.
But there are times when my heart feels very vulnerable.
There are times when I need...

Even though every part of my brain will tell me to buck up,
Stick my chin up and be independently awesome.
My gut, my heart, says I am hopelessly dependent.
Why do I identify the part of me that is able to admit I need other people as weak?
Why do I consider my self-sufficient side as powerful?

It seems messed up when I word it that way,
But so does waiting on Superman.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014


I awaken
Suddenly I'm hit with sensations
I'm aware of my soft sheets
The way my firm mattress cradles my body,
The way my warm blankets shield me from the morning chill
The way the man I love lays close beside me,
I just need to take a moment,
To embrace the sensations of another day of life.
Suddenly shaving doesn't seem so important.
Snooze button.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Beautiful Chaos

Last night I painted a picture.
As I started to glide my brush,
I had ever intention of making an exact replica of the photo I was looking at.
Quickly my hands took over,
Blending light strokes of different colors,
The way I always paint everything- impressionistically.
When I was done.
I stood back and was surprised by the work I did.
Almost feeling like I had not done it myself.
My hands had taken over,
The brush, the paints took control of the work.
Sometimes giving yourself up to the chaos,
Is what creates the most beautiful parts of life.