Morning path

The paths are familiar. I remember bike rides and jumping in to rescue my son from a fall into two inches of rich chocolate brown mud. His front side perfectly clean and his back perfectly covered like he had been dipped in mud.

I remember catching frogs in the ponds and our squeals.

I remember an enormous pile of pine cones and an industrious squirrel. My amazement couldn’t not translate to my tween son.

Today I walk alone, my teen son sound asleep. I notice weeping branches against the gray sky. Runic messages in the roots telling me my fate if I care to translate. Today I love the texture and mess of wet spotted leaves. No instagram filters here.

A splash of green has me curious. Why so bright just weeks before the first snow. I feel the joy of those green leaves. Externally hopeful.


Photo credit: Alicia Tatone, published on

A wormhole opened up in my living room. From the glowing light, a slender well manicured hand reached across time. I pulled back frightened. The arm darted back. Then, as suddenly as it appeared, the wormhole snapped closed.

A piece of translucent vellum fluttered to the floor. I picked it up.

The penmanship was exquisite.

For you, a preview of Kavanaugh’s closing statement in tomorrow’s hearings.

“As you are well aware, I hold precedent in high regard and believe we should look to precedent to guide our process. In this case, I would like to call attention to the precedent established in the 1981 confirmation hearings for Justice Thomas. It is the expectation of this nominee that Republican Senators will demean the accuser and my sexual misconduct will have no bearing on my confirmation. I look forward to serving on Supreme Court and advancing restrictions on woman’s healthcare although precedent prohibits me for admitting a previously stated comments.” – Kavanaugh

My heart sank. The vellum glowed. The letters reformed.

“Keep resisting. Humanity wins in the end.”

What lefties want

1:34 pm

Your comment is awaiting moderation.

I’m a lifelong Democrat who loves my country. I’m definitely a liberal. In all my years, I don’t believe that I have ever met someone who wants to take away all guns. They are out there I’m sure but most lefties like me want some common sense changes.

I want guns and accessories with some features regulated. Brand name and the look of the gun makes absolutely no difference to me. You are right, the hunting rifle with it’s wood finish looks traditional and yet does exactly the same thing.

Here’s what I want: Reduce the number of rounds before reloading. Reduce the number of shots a person can fire per minute. Eliminate gun show and private sale loopholes. Improve the background checks process. Ensure that violent behaviors such as domestic violence are reported. Provide a mechanism for families to be able to address suicidal family members. Too many veterans are lost because trauma left them suicidal and they had access to a gun during their darkest hour.

I think some conservatives like yourself could collaborate with us lefties on a few common sense solutions.


The invisibility of all our privileges

Fifty three percent of white women voted for trump.

Fifty three percent.

White women are often blamed for electing trump.

I’ll admit it. I hate being grouped with the women who voted for trump. I hate people putting me in the same box.

Hate it.

But here’s the truth.

I get it.

I am a college educated middle class white woman. My privileges are many.

I am given more societal advantages than people of color, people without a degree, people living in poverty, immigrants, LGBTQ people.

Privilege surrounded me like the air I breath. I could not see it because it is the fabric of my existence. My struggles were relative to the people in my bubble and, in my psyche, I was far from privileged.

I was raised in an abusive home, bogged down by sexual assault, surrounded by people with more wealth. I had to work harder than my male peers in the STEM field and still faced harassment and discrimination. I fought hard against my own early gender based wage gap and closed it.

If I did not have my scholarship to college, my first sexual assault could have broken me. Instead, I escaped my hometown and I was able to keep my life moving forward.

When I made mistakes as a young white educated woman (and I did), people were always willing to give me a second chance.

Second chances are given to the privileged.

White women have the ability to thrive in white patriarchy, at least as long as we conform to the expectations.

Some of us can even be activists as long as we wear the hat of the charming idealist. The white male power system will still reward us. Our activism can be a hobby, even a passionate one, because we will always be protected by the envelope of privilege.

In my late 20s, I ventured out of my bubble and my privilege came into view.

I imagine some of the white women are aware of their privilege and intentionally seek to succeed within the constraints of white male patriarchy. For those dependency is a costume they wear to access the bigger payouts. For others, privilege is as invisible as the air we breath.

<a href=””>Fabric</a&gt;


Please help me remember a time when we could work together.

Once, our people valued compromise. Differences in opinion were not reasons to scream insults. There was power in restraint and a common code of decency.

Please tell me that my hindsight is not just rosy nostalgia.

Part rosy and part true. Our people have a history of hate and bigotry. Waves of white supremacy have swept through our country. So many people lost their lives and livelihood to weak people driven by hate. Over and over again, the bigots have been defeated when decent people unite.

Please tell me how the old battles were won.

Many people spoke up and stood side by side. Many people risked everything to speak against hate. The risks were high but the cost of being agreeable in disagreeable times is too much to accept.

Please tell me everything will be okay.

There’s good reason to hope.

The marginalized voices have much to say. Are you ready to listen? They are ready to lead. Are you ready to follow?

<a href=””>Uncompromising</a&gt;

The atmospheric ups and downs of extreme motherhood

Morning sky clear and bright. Rays glitter. Hope is running high.

Little signs of atmospheric changes. Trying to ignore the fidgeting and hyper focus. Trying to morph it into playfulness.

If I ignore the brewing storm it will pass by me. I will call the rain kisses and the wind will remind me of flying.

My insides are scrambled up because my body won’t fall for my wishful brain’s tricks.

Sky’s overhead are dark now. The air presses down. In the old days the storm moved inside toppling shelves and breaking glass.

I make preparations and breathe in the electric air.

The winds are fickle and the storm passes like a sweet summer downpour.


<a href=””>Atmospheric</a&gt;