family {the chorus}

tickled to be asked to join the chorus, carefully and lovingly led by amy grace.


there are many. but then there is this. mom in her apron and giggling auntie. encompassing all of us. weary steps and mended fences. good food, hilarity, gaping hearts. hiding and guarding and breaking wide open. many theatrics. top of lung singing. parties with themes. costumes galore. walks and walks and walks at the shore. millions of times where we map it all out. thousands of tears and the warmth of real hugs. things remembered slung out of sling shots of years. leaving the rest in the sand.


a chorus

amy grace, a beautiful writer and photographer, contacted me recently, with an invitation to add to her loving contribution to the web and spot on tribute to women artists. because i spend so much time behind a screen in my work, i am not a big blog reader simply because i prefer to turn pages. so i was unfamiliar with the chorus before she reached out. then i read it. and then a lot of my feelings about internet and false connectedness and skepticism of others' motives got all tossed around a bit.

here were real women, not all "celebrity bloggers" nor ever professing anything of the sort, speaking plainly and poetically about the realities of navigating the perfect storm that is our sisterhood. showing their bones. i was all in.

and because of that i had to make live this little blog i'd been hoarding away, and release the website i have re-worked no less than 147 times in the last few years, while leaving a dated ancient one live for folks to visit. i had made it awfully hard to find me on the internet, both purposely in some ways and totally accidentally. i'm funny, and dumb like that.

so thank you, amy, for asking specifically for my words and showing me a place where there really is connection to be had, being connected over the internets. also, for the bravery you didn't even know you were bestowing on me. and for believing. for inviting us to come to the chorus with our own off key cracking voices of love and loss and total surrender.

thoughts after 3 days of snow when living on an island outside a city that gets very little weather weirdness:
- it's nicer to stay home for days at a time because the roads are slick and you're a terrible driver anyhow than because you are grief stricken and looking around for your dog or terribly ill or some such thing. the looking inward and the forced togetherness and the creative cooking and the far slowed pace feels right and like we needed it.
- i miss neighborhoods. and the friends in them. and walking to markets and pubs.
- it is terribly terribly beautiful out here though.
- things really are rarely what they seem. we have these glimpses into others' lives through all manner of filters and think we've figured each other out, but cannot. know it all. not just by reading words on a screen and seeing pictures made pretty.
this little image was made after strong words and rolled eyes and arguing about hot showers (because that is so RIDICULOUS after hours in the snow with slush in your galoshes) and irate responses and a whole big mess of escalating emotion; thus the walking many feet in front of me. and the swear words thankfully muffled by my scarf. and the feelings of failing. and the general pissedoffedness. but i couldn't resist taking the picture. and it might suggest peace and beauty and "a lovely life" but it is really just a scrap of one being sewn together with thick clumsy fingers and no thimble, and doubt and hope and hard core love. we are all just doing our best. that might be the only thing we can safely presume.