Category: memories
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Then & Now: Three Years Ago Today
You’re allowed to show up as you need, and you’re allowed not to show up or go back as you need. But more than anything, I want you to know that you are ALLOWED to make the long, thought-out choices that provide you with the emotional and physical SAFETY that…
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Time, Tales, and Transformations: A Writer’s Journey
Unraveling Past, Present, and the Pages of a Life in Progress The comments about time flying don’t stop; they continue with rapid fervor. People tell me that’s aging in a nutshell. I swear I just did this. I swear I told myself I’d post here weekly, and now, it’s been…
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Reflections and Revelations: Embracing the Stillness and Motion
March – a snapshot in time as hindsight becomes insight March was a month of sunshine in the cold and reflecting on elements of time that stand still while feeling the world move around me – conflicted, busy, purposeful, inspired. I felt stretched and torn by the things that weren’t…
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I can face the darkness and remain… awake.
This last year, I am most proud of the things I didn’t do — the steps I didn’t get, the books I didn’t read, and the calories I didn’t count. Historically, at the end of a year, I announce everything from Spotify Wraps to Top Nine photos to FitBit Steps to MyFitnessPal…
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Returning: Stories From A Road Twice Travelled
I laughed myself silly as he pointed it out. “Fur-tographer.” It was a new insight into the many ways my accent fills and washes over me with each passing day in the South. I’m coming home to myself. Except, I didn’t know it. It was never the plan. If life…
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Wait? What? I Was The Queen of The Christmas Romance.
In each of those experiences I’ve met the Hallmark quota of Christmas tropes. I’ve returned from the big city. I’ve gone to the country. I’ve found an old high school flame. I’ve been swept off my feet at random. And all of it was part of my coming-of-age Christmas story.
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Going To Carolina In My Mind
I can distinctly recall the wet, autumn smell wafting natural sugars of falling leaves through humid air as I stood knock kneed and insecure at an age where it didn’t yet matter. From the top of the hill at the end of Ashemont Circle, there was never proof of sunrise…