In eighth grade, something in me broke that would affect me for years. Two somethings actually: my tibia and my spirit. A weekend before Thanksgiving, I was running an obstacle course on the primary-colored playground of the local elementary school with my dad and my brother. We’d wandered there together with the intention of spending […]Read more "When the Leg Breaks"
“I learned about Y2K in my middle school history class.” My friend works at a large university and she sometimes texts me things she hears students say in passing. She and I graduated within a year of each other so our reference points are similar and it’s always entertaining to hear how people a generation […]Read more "Eighth Grade"
I’m halfway through being 35 and ever since the calendar turned the page to a new year, I’ve been thinking a lot about my age. A lot, a lot. Multiple times a day. I’m 35. Fully grown. I’m, like, totally an adult or something. But am I where I’m supposed to be? And to that […]Read more "I Don’t Know About You, but I’m (not) Feeling 35"
There was a moment recently when something profound happened. It’s not a particularly unique moment—it’s something all human people go through—still, when it happens, the impact crater it leaves is inescapably large. Recently, one of my friendships shifted. It shifted from that person being considered a close-knit-friend-family-member to a cordial-acquaintance-with-a-shared-history. It happened so quickly. Yet […]Read more "The Shift"
One of the most significant landmarks of my upbringing was Crider Road. Nestled between two Dallas suburbs, the trees clung to its entrance like heavy curtains making it feel more like a passage into Middle Earth than a service road in North Texas. The road wasn’t gravel but couldn’t be defined as fully paved either […]Read more "On Crider Road, Kick-the-Can & Change Around the Bend"