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The earliest memory I have? I was around four years old. (The same age as my daughter) And I remember this feeling: scared, sad, alone. Strangely, that same season also gave me my happiest early memory: Kindergarten. Where I first learned what joy felt like, and what fear did too. Waiting I had a younger brother, just a couple of years younger than me. My mom usually picked me up from school. Not just picked me up, waited , watched, and worked. She’d sell food under the "Kub

Sometimes I feel it, quietly, this strange, gentle knowing that we’re all moving together. Not just as people in the same world, but as...

I’ve rewritten this first post about seven times because I didn’t want it to sound too serious or too cheesy, but then I realized: life is  serious and  cheesy. So here we are. This blog is something I’ve been holding in my heart for a while now. A space to breathe. A space to feel. A space to write about all the messy, beautiful, heartbreaking, healing, magical, real-life stuff that happens when you're just trying to be a human person with a soft heart and a stubborn will.