Packet of Wildflower Seeds

Samantha sat reclining in her old desk chair, eyes closed, contemplating excuses she could give to get out of her next assignment. Nothing came to mind. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and allowed her glance to fall upon the dusty portrait that lay on her otherwise pristine desk. Two people sat placidly on the canvas, a man and a woman. No one knew who they were. The picture was discovered during the previous week in the antique museum down in New Orleans. The only clue to the identity of the couple was an address scrawled in pencil on the back. Some people from the museum had called the historical society in Atlanta because they had heard about its penchant for solving mysteries pertaining to antiques. Samantha worked for the society in Atlanta, but at that time, she wished she didn't. After a few seconds of hesitation, Samantha flipped the portrait over and read the address aloud to herself. Only one part captured her attention, and that was the city: New Orleans. It was Saman...

It seems like I blinked and summer was more than half-over. The season never feels quite the same as it did when I was a kid, when it was a respite from school and a time my family could travel together. We had many exciting vacations over the years, but I'm going to focus on my memories of one place in particular: Florida. My grandmother has a condo in Orlando, and we visited relatively frequently when I was young. As a result, I have a stronger emotional reaction to my memories of that place. My grandma's condo isn't very large, but it is comfortable, and I absolutely adored it. She has a large wicker chair that can rock and spin; my siblings and I loved it so much, we would fight over who got to sit in it. We ate our breakfast, which was usually Cheerios, out of coral pink plastic bowls at a glass table just off the kitchen area. We also played cards at that table, so we would joke about not peeking through the glass. I shared the guest bedroom with my sister. I have...

I have a brother-in-law who once posted an article about a woman revived after a lightning strike. Her recovery was considered a miracle since she was thought to be dead. After she was revived, she claimed that she had traveled through hell and could discern the sins that had led individuals there. She said the deepest level, full of the worst suffering and completely isolated from God, was reserved for those who had committed suicide. I'm sure my relative shared the story to encourage people to think more seriously about the fate of their souls and the consequences of their actions. While I wondered about the theological validity of the woman's claims (and even whether or not her "experience" was actually a side effect of the lightning strike), I kept thinking that my brother-in-law was willing to promote a story that proclaimed suicidal individuals are the worst type of people. Stigma, judgment, fear - many things prevent individuals with mental illness from rec...

The is no shortage of parenting advice in this world, especially online. Even friends share articles and tidbits about their beliefs; the information ranges in nature from helpful to proselytizing. Most of the time I can navigate the posts with relative ease, scanning the ones that interest me and ignoring the ones I don't expect to be useful. I have my anxieties, of course, but I recognize that every situation is unique, so there is no one "perfect" approach to parenting. It is perhaps a little strange, then, that a topic I find to be among the most difficult is one that my friends don't discuss that often. Every time someone shares a birth story, though, it comes up, and I have to struggle with my feelings anew. An acquaintance recently gave birth in a birthing center. Having a natural birth, she was able to go home later the same day and begin bonding with her baby at home. My births were not traumatic by any means, but I did not give birth naturally. Sometimes...

Your voice breaks over my soul like a wave upon the beach I think you just pulled me back from nonexistence I'm hypnotized just staring into your eyes As my emotions quickly close the distance I reach out to touch your arm, and it's real Your hand slips to reach slowly around my waist Fear makes me stay though I want to break away Your spell is much too strong for my taste I can't believe how close we are The heat tingles up my spine I feel like I'm dying even though I'm only crying Because I know you're not quite mine But you take me away from this dry desert And I can't make the world stop spinning I find my place in your sweet embrace And finally get the feeling of winning But as I step back to look at your face You transform into a thin mist The daylight grows old as I grow cold And a bruise stains where I was kissed I'm torn by the abrupt ending But from the start, it was only a fairy tale scheme Maybe I'll learn from ...

My anniversary is approaching. In honor of that, I wanted to write a little about my husband. When I first told him that I was going to start a blog, he said he didn't mind if I sometimes talked about him. I suppose this will be a test of his sincerity! J, as I will call him in the public sphere, went to the Air Force Academy. It was his goal to attend USAFA starting sophomore year of high school. He liked planes, and while he found the design of military jets to be particularly interesting, he thought the prospect of flying them was even more alluring. With the aim of becoming a pilot, J worked to gain his appointment to the academy. He was well into this process when I entered the picture, and our relationship was still new when he learned of his acceptance. I was unsure what distance and a military commitment would mean for our future, but I was very supportive of J. He seemed pretty enthusiastic. A brief emotional withdrawal during my graduation party was the only hint of h...

Things can get a little lonely when you are a parent of young children, especially if you stay home with them. You might not have much interaction with other adults on a daily basis, and your kids are probably not a source of deep conversation. It was this reality I faced when my birthday approached this past spring. I generally do not have high expectations for my birthdays, but I looked forward to getting a few more texts than usual and maybe having a small party with close family members. I hoped the sense of isolation would subside for a bit. That didn't happen. An unexpected number of individuals forgot my birthday. Only one friend checked in with me on the day itself. My mom bought cupcakes, but we didn't eat them together as a family. Due to some incorrect assumptions and miscommunication, there was no party; no one sang to me. I felt a greater sense of loneliness than usual. I'm not the kind of person who needs a lot of gifts, and I dislike being the center of...