I am not sorry.

I am not sorry

for speaking my mind.

I am not sorry

for expressing my feelings.

I am not sorry.

Sometimes people will not like what you have to say.  They will expect you to stay silent, or even worse – they will expect you to agree with every word that they speak.  They will not expect you to have an opinion or to voice your frustration, even when you are trying to better the situation.  Even if you are soft spoken and calm.  Sometimes people will be offended that you dare to call them out on their behavior or disagree with their opinion.  And if they do not like what you have to say, they may be mean, shut you down, or freeze you out with the coldest shoulder you’ve ever know.  They may be stubborn, waiting for you to repent.

But my love, do not apologize!

If they are too petty to listen, then they do not deserve to hear what you have to say.

They are not worth your breath.

Do not apologize, my love.

For you have done nothing wrong.


I am here.

Love is continuing to call even when you get sent to voicemail.

Today, yesterday, last week.

It is so easy to stop reaching out when you feel there are no hands reaching out in return.

You may be busy, overwhelmed, or avoiding life.

But I will keep calling until you have the time for me.

I don’t expect a call back, yet I hope that you will.

For now, I will keep calling until you are ready to face life together.

Today, tomorrow, next week.

This love looks different than the rest.

Love is driving your partner to work during a snow storm.

Love is feeding your partner when they are too exhausted to cook

Love is bringing your partner a glass of water

especially in the middle of night.

Love is taking care of each other.

Love is support.

But love is also accountability.

Love is calling each other out on bad habits, while encouraging good ones.

Love is lifting each other up, especially when there is need for an extra push.


Last night I dreamed that I was the one down on one knee.

An unconventional proposal because tradition was already ruined.

You don’t realize how much of a wedding is centered around

a father

until he is gone.


Looking up at my love, hands shaking from nerves,

all I could think was how badly I wanted to make him

a father.


I woke up in his arms and turned to whisper “Good Morning”

Half sleep, he put his forehead to mine

pressing silent vows into my third eye.

I exhaled and the dream was gone.


There is no rush this time.

There is no uncertainty.

I’ve already seen our daughter in his eyes.







New Years Resolutions.

Who is ready to bury 2017 six hundred feet deep?? 

I think I may be an outlier in saying that this year has actually brought a lot of good into my life!  Although the events in the outside world made me want to cry regularly, my personal life felt rejuvenated and mature. The women in my life continue to amaze me and have become the strong support base that is my inner circle. I am in love with a man who has never made me feel alone or unworthy.  My needs are met and my heart is happy.

That being said, there is always room to grow.  Which is why I love the tradition of setting intentions for the new year. So call me cliché but Ima do it anyways!

  1. Pause.  Oh, how the world could use more of this!  Personally, this resolution is needed through each and every layer of the onion that is my life.  The outer most layer may be silly and surface level, but nonetheless it feels important – I really need to start proof reading my texts (and apparently blog posts) before I send or post them, you guys.  Lord knows how many times I’ve either spelled something wrong, let auto correct get the best of me, or straight up put my foot in my mouth by saying something the wrong way.  Speed fingers never do you good! So I am setting an intention to slow down. I am trying not to rush, but instead to pause during the day, the week, the year.  This may be through meditation, yoga, or simply taking a moment to breathe and think through an action before jumping in face first.

  2. Run.  Point Blank Period.  Running has always been a way for me to clear my head and feel good about my body.  After losing momentum this holiday season and remaining stagnant for too long, I am ready to get accountable and start training again!  This involves finding a gym with less excuses.  I currently pay way too much for a gym that is too far away, only to avoid people I don’t want to see and ultimately end up never making it to the gym. The easy answer is a new start.  A new gym that is closer without unsavory acquaintances with whom I am constantly trying to avoid eye contact. But I know it will take more than just a location change to jump-start my motivation. A training schedule is a wonderful way to initiate a plan of action.  The next challenge is sticking with it!

  3. Mint. The financial hangover from Christmas seems to hit harder every year.  When I was a poor college student, I found Mint to be a life saving resource when it comes to budgeting and managing what little money I had.  Every year I say I am going to save more, spend less, but really I should aim to be less impulsive.  This goes back to my original resolution to pause and think about my purchases.  Because more often than not, the answer is no, I don’t really need to buy those $40 comfy pants when I already have a dozen at home.

RIP 2017!  In your coffin I leave my laziness, regret, and impulsive behavior.

Good Night. Good Bye. Good Riddance.



It’s been almost 10 years since I last played Canasta.

It was an early Saturday morning, I’m sure.  Mom and the boys were most likely still sleeping.  Dad had woken me up with the smell of his daily dose of hazelnut coffee.  Sleepy-eyed, yawning and wrapped up in a blanket, I meandered into the kitchen to join him.  Sitting at the kitchen table of our cottage, he was already deep into a game of solitaire.  Happy to have some company, he shuffled the cards back up and pulled out the Canasta Deck.

“Should we play?” he asked quietly.

“Sure”  sixteen-year-old me replied as I snuggled into the chair across from him.

He dealt us each 11 cards and that was it.  We probably played the game until the rest of our family woke up.  My mom probably made bacon and eggs and toast. After breakfast, we probably each retreated back to our own corners of the house to read books from the library.  A family of quiet, sensitive introverts finding peace in Northern Michigan.

Ten years later, I found my dad’s old deck.  The cards are worn, but somehow none have been lost.  The discard tray still reminds me of an ashtray and they still smell exactly like the cottage; slightly musty as if someone forgot how to open the window.  My boyfriend had never heard of this version of Canasta.  (Which I must say is exponentially better than the middle school version most people know). This version of Canasta involves planning and patience and math, which is probably why I love it so much.

But then it hit me that I had completely forgotten the game’s complexity.  It had taken me years of watching my brothers, aunts, and father play before I fully understood the flow.  I was out of practice and my memory was failing me.  After the initial shock of realizing how much time had passed wore off, I googled the instructions.

And I remembered each step with vivid detail.  I remember asking questions when it didn’t make sense.  I remember my father’s patience in explaining each part to me. I remember begging my brothers to play so we could have teams of two.  I remember my mom telling us to put it away because it was almost time for dinner and we needed to set the table.

I remember my family at its best.

My dad may no longer be here to patiently answer my questions, but I feel blessed to have to opportunity to continue his tradition.  To patiently teach my own family not only how to play the game, but how to come together and be our family at its best.

Farmer’s Market.

Corn on the cob, husked by my not-yet-husband as I tend to the tomatoes.

Accidental vegetarians, farmers.

Fresh cut watermelon made the air taste sweet.

Followed by the smell of blueberry peach muffins, the essence of summer.

Hand-folded batter, sprinkled with cinnamon sugar and love.

Windows open, crickets singing over your voice,

“Mmm those muffins are smelling real good, Babe.”

Tonight, I will sleep with a full belly, full heart.




Last night I dreamt of driving in the snow.

Icy roads, poor visibility, hazardous conditions.

Yet the city was silent.

The snow fell so softly its as if someone pressed pause

And I was the only one who couldn’t stop moving.

Have you ever watched a car crash in slow motion?

It’s breath taking.


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