It’s 4 a.m. I’m standing in front of the internal light of the microwave, holding Ri, gently swaying to keep her asleep while my coffee mug heats, the one hot dark roast will be dripping into in just a couple of seconds. Her mama told me she is teething again, so the last few nights have been interrupted by pain. Standing, swaying, waiting, mindful of her rhythm, I’m remembering why thirty-something years ago, Liz and Andrew asked me to be Jake’s godmother. “You’re good with

As I rose at my regular 4 a.m. hour (it was actually more like 3:40 🙄), in the bathroom mirror I caught a glimpse of myself. My hair has gotten longer—like my adult daughter’s hair. Last night, before bed, in front of this same mirror, I was able to put my hair up high in a messy bun, the way she’s done with her hair forever. Her beautiful blonde hair, with natural lowlights, has not been short since the fifth or sixth grade (which was also just as beautiful on her). So she

Every morning, my early-rising friend texts me. Or I text her. We don’t plan it. We just both know one of us is awake before most normal people. If I had to be up at 4 a.m. to catch an early flight, I’d think that was so incredibly early—like most people do. I remember a seventh-grade history teacher—hauntingly tall, with overapplied makeup that made her look like a clown, the unsettling kind. She told us she got up at 4 a.m.—that just made her seem even weirder And now— My p

This morning felt lighter. The memoir, finally done. Off my hands, off my mind, and out in the world, no longer mine. Something written, worked on, and tweaked for the last six years—sometimes setting it aside for months when I couldn’t find the arc, and sometimes just tired of my own writing... Waking up at 4 am like always—when it’s still dark and peaceful. Quiet. Nothing had changed, really. The coffee was the same. The light of day hadn’t come in yet. The house held that

I couldn’t NOT write about my time spent with my (shhhhhh favorite) niece, her significant other, and their newborn twin boys. I’ve been here a week and I’ve been too much in the moment, it’s only right now I am inspired to write. My heart is breaking just a little bit as I am smack in the middle of witnessing my niece in her own growth spurt. Last night was the twin's dad’s first overnight work day, leaving mom with the boys for 24+ hours. The not-so-new-now parents have bee