A New Chapter

Posted: May 28, 2019 by Rachel

I don’t notice the color of my therapist’s new office during my first visit, but looking back on it now, I imagine it to be an unimaginative shade of beige. Beige is boring. And entirely expected. I can, however, recall the way her dark hair was pulled away from her face, and her kind eyes. I wonder if that’s a prerequisite to becoming a therapist; those eyes. The kind that can coax anything from you—the truth, perhaps. Certainly everything else, too.

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on losing a mother

she always knew when enough was enough

Posted: May 5, 2019

not many people can tell you what you’re in forwhen you lose a parent suddenly.i’m glad that’s the case, but good godit would be nice to talk to someone my agewho understands what it feels like. my mom died seventeen days ago.we’d been by her side for days, weeks, all of us—sisters, aunts, nieces, nephews, granddaughters,brothers, daughters, husband, friends—but she waited until i stepped out for a moment,when she could be alone with my dad,to take her last breath. i sat back in a tiny, uncomfortable chair,pulled my legs tight against me and wept.i’ve never felt more alone than in…

parents are funny

Posted: July 10, 2018

I called my parents in the middle of the day today, wanting to remind them about something. My mother answered the phone, her voice full of concern, as I’d just spoken to them yesterday (if I don’t call enough I’m in trouble; if I call too often she thinks something’s wrong). “I just wanted to tell you to watch World Of Dance tonight; Easton’s going to be on it.” She put my dad on the phone. I was so happy to hear his voice. The number of times I call them and get to speak to my dad alone is…

This is: September (a video)

Posted: September 4, 2015

You can always count on me to take a photograph. I’ll take thirty if you let me. But lately, I have felt a tugging at my bones to try something new, and to open myself up in a different way. This is: my attempt at a beginning. This is: September.

August 1

Posted: August 1, 2015

When we bought this chair I used to sit in it in the darkness of the freshly painted nursery, rubbing my seven month pregnant belly and wonder what it would feel like to nurse my son right in that spot. And once we stopped nursing I thought about how it would feel to sit with him on my lap and read to him in that chair. Now I catch glimpses of what he will look like as he grows and uses that chair for other things like reading on his own, listening to music, maybe just sitting and enjoying life….

All the Dust and Debris

Posted: July 11, 2015

I was 16 when I fell in love for the first time, and like any young girl at that age, I thought he was the be all and end all. I had no idea that there would be others after him. He was sweet and kind, with big, light brown eyes and a smile that made everything seem instantly better, and I loved him. For over four years, we loved each other.  And when our relationship came to its end, when it became clear that we weren’t meant to be forever, I lost more than the love of a boy….

A Messy Saturday

Posted: June 21, 2015

I was yelling. Dom was yelling. And DJ kept on crying, like he had been all day. Some days I can breathe deeply, consciously, and calm myself down. Some days I can remind myself that he’s only two and that we’re all still learning to communicate with each other. Today was not one of those days. We were tired, the trio of us: from battling colds, ear infections, poor sleep and skipped naps. The 107 degree heat perhaps affecting us more than we realize. So: there was yelling. At four-thirty, Dom called in reinforcements: his aunt, to relieve us for…

05 + 06 + 07 / 52

Posted: February 21, 2015

“A portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2015“ DJ – You are so curious these days, wanting to touch everything, feel it, feel the weight of it all, how it feels in your hands, against your face. We’re running out of ways to keep you out of things. Our things have steadily been moved higher + higher, out of your reach, but we’re at our limits, now. If only you could understand, sweet boy, that there are always some things in life that are off limits.                    …

On Adapting

Posted: February 5, 2015

Hey mamas, I see you over there, hiding in your closet to shed your tears in peace. I’ve been there. Many times, in fact. It’s so damn hard, isn’t it?  This parenting thing? You’ve never felt so empowered and so defeated at the same time. You finish the last of the three loads of built-up laundry only to find yourself back in the laundry room the very next day, and that corner of the living room that you cleaned up especially for you, so that you could have one single space in your house that you can sit in and…

04 / 52

Posted: January 31, 2015

 “A portrait of my son, once a week, every week in 2015“ DJ –  You are my everything, my sweet, darling, loveable boy. I’ll swallow these moments whole.