I never really had a language for grief. And if I did, it was only around death.

My grandmother died when I was seven. I was old enough to understand what had happened and experience the sense of loss, kind of. It was my first experience with grief. But my parents rarely talked about it.

My mom would cry quietly for the next few months in the bathroom. And on every major anniversary. But, aside...

Where is love found?

Is it in the apples

My mother sliced for me

Every afternoon

After school

With peanut butter on the side?

Is it in the sandwich

My father made for me

Lunch meat

Cheese

And white bread

With chips on the side?

Is it in the roast dinner

My grandmother made for me

Every Easter,

Thanksgiving,

And Christmas

With mashed potatoes

And gravy on the side?

Where is love found?

In the k...

“You’ve been working on this presentation for months.” “No one else in the room knows about this topic better than you.” “You’re a strong, confident woman that is going to kick ass… but, like, in a professional way.”

I stare at myself in the fluorescent light of the office bathroom. I notice I’ve been grabbing the sink so hard I can’t feel my fingertips anymore. Okay. It’s showtime.

“I’m strong...

Journal Entry: May 16, 2017

Ah the hunt! What an ancient and honorable craft - so thrilling! As if every time I put my hand to the earth to feel the warmth of a footprint or taste the freshness of a snapped twig I can feel generations of my ancestors flowing through me with all their knowledge and excitement.

I had become quite bored, as you know, without the hunt for a whole of six months and ...