I know my children. I know them in an unknowable place that is inside me and beyond me. I know the shapes their souls take when they think no one is looking.

Evelyn was my wolf daughter. She was born to the bear in me. To the internal force all women⁠—all mothers⁠—know...

We are walking side by side through a patchwork of sunlight and pine needles. The sun is high and persistent, and the air is humming with a chorus of insects. Mosquitoes mostly. It is dry, no rain in sight, and the scents of baking pine and cedar waft back to us from f...

The grieving mind is a swirling, bitter soup of unanswerable questions, a miserable cocktail of

what ifs and if onlys. My mind is steeped daily in an onslaught of questions so painful, so terrifying to ask and even more terrifying to answer, that they can only be whispe...