The Archive

Faith, for me, isn't what I thought it would be. It's smaller. Quieter. Less certainty and more company. Fewer answers and more presence. Some days I don't know what I believe. But I know I'm not alone in the not-knowing…

To the friend I still haven't called back, It isn't you. It's that I don't have the language yet for what I'm sitting with, and I can hear the questions inside your kindness. I will call. I promise. But first I'm trying…

I used to hope for gentler people. Now I try to be one. To listen without fixing. To speak without sharpening. To stay without needing anyone to become smaller for me. Let me be, on my best days, the kind of quiet someon…

A hummingbird stopped at my window this morning. Just hovered there, looking in. I hadn't cried in weeks. I cried at a bird. I think that counts as something. I'm going to let it count.

Today I made a doctor's appointment without overthinking it. That sounds small. It isn't, for me. A year ago I would have drafted the phone call three times in my head first. I'm writing this down so future me remembers:…

I still miss him some days. Not really him. The version of him I'd written in my head. I know those aren't the same person. I know missing a story isn't the same as wanting the real thing back. But feelings don't always…