Spring is near. I can smell it in the air. Here in the desert, it smells of wet dust and humidity, stale wind, and decaying foliage. It's a time when we desert dwellers feel an urgency to get outside before the oppressive heat bleeds into our lives and has us drawing our curtains by noon. Here, winter is the time for getting outside. It's the time when food and flowers bloom, and bird songs fill the vastness above our heads. But as the temperatures steadily rise, already hovering at 80 most afternoons, I can feel that hollow feeling that March often brings. Not exclusively about the loss of our…
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Our Traditions Were Never Quite The Same
The list of traditions on this holiday is long. Those not keen to read a novel would request I stop here. After all, the point isn’t to recount every last detail and every last memory of my childhood family. The point is to commemorate traditions loved and lost.
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Love Letters From Beyond: How To Hold Onto Those We’ve Loved
I didn't understand then what I know now. The hurt that can come from being absent when someone we love dies is unbearable. It took my own mother's death to realize what I had taken that day. Blue hydrangeas became my silent apology for my selfishness. Years before my mom passed, I asked her why she loved hydrangeas. Turns out, it was her mother's favorite flower.
