I want to tell you a story…about my mommy. That’s what I call her, even ‘til this day in my conversations about her. I’ve been thinking about her a lot these days. Maybe because I’m growing older, as a woman and as a mom. Or maybe ‘cos I’m finally beginning to understand what being her was like, from a different perspective. My mommy was a very gentle, tender and nurturing woman. She appreciated beautiful things – plants, art (whether fashion, music, movies or crafts), storie

Those are hard to admit to myself honestly. Let alone say out loud for the world to hear. Because I have learned somewhere along the way that I shouldn’t want them. That I can do without them. But life has shown me, time and again, how those wants are very real. And very human... The ache isn’t from the wanting, or from not having... Yes, that hurts. Sometimes, a lot. But the pain of denying myself the permission to want, of closing my heart to protect from the disap

My mom would have turned 81 this April 15 th . She died 2 weeks after I turned 32, the same age she was when she had me. For a long time after, I didn’t really know how to allow myself to grief for her. I remember my younger sister sharing her memories of being with her, how she was often reminded of her presence, even in her dreams, and the things she’d enjoy doing in remembrance of her. And I’ve always felt a tinge of guilt for not feeling the same. “Do I not miss her just