Collage

The only green I’m interested in today are the leaves of the daffodils poking through the soil in our backyard, the fuzzy buds on our magnolia tree, the moss starting to climb up our sweet gum.

Give me your sketchiest motel, the one with the musty room, the dusty carpet, right there on the beach that’s too crowded with tourists.

I judge the quality of my Sunday by the feel of my fingers throughout the day.

I carry all the heavy things in my body, as most of us do. We never learned to shake it off and move on, like animals can do.

And here we are. One year in.

The pandemic has given me a new appreciation for simple pleasures. Like socks.

Zero to 60–that’s how mornings used to feel back when I had to get myself and two kids dressed, fed, and to school and work every morning.

When we bought our house, we were thinking it would be great for entertaining—and it is. Over the years we’ve hosted by so many dinner parties, game nights, and Thanksgiving meals in this sprawling ’60s ranch. Turns out it’s pretty perfect for a year of quarantining, too.

This year I learned how to show up for myself, to give myself what I need, month after month, week after week, day after day.

In my 20s, I thought I was an extrovert, but over the past few years I’ve come to realize I’m totally an introvert.

This week is going to be heavy, an unwelcome anniversary for most of us, so I’m going to focus on some of the things I’ve been grateful for during what has been a tough year in general. First up is citrus.

Last night we were watching Succession again and there’s this scene where Shiv and Tom are sitting on the beach and you can hear seagulls calling over rhythmic crashing waves.

In the mornings, I have this elaborate coffee mug picking ritual I use to try to steer how the day will go.

I’m feeling like getting into some trouble this weekend. It’s been so long.

I used to think dancing was like a mathematical equation—I loved doing it but didn’t quite know what I was doing, and I thought alcohol was the missing variable I needed to override my inhibitions and let go.

How I feel after a day’s worth of constant, unending interruption from children who believe themselves to be the literal centers of the universe, which is developmentally appropriate but still so inconvenient, while I try to work from home is like I have been shattered by a hammer.

Spring is on my mind, and I’m feeling a little anxious about it. My memories of last spring are still so visceral.

Today I thought a lot about my hair. I essentially have two hair modes: straight and wavy.

As someone who spent lots of years running away from pain and trying to find ways to numb it, I never really spent any time listening to my body.