A very acceptable ratio of trash to treasure.
Which food, when you eat it, instantly transports you to childhood?
I don’t know the name, but it’s simple.
Tomatoes
Potatoes
Some ground beef.
Seasoning I’ll never quite get right.
If I made it now, of course, the meat would be replaced with textured vegetable protein.
But the smell alone would bring me back to my mother’s kitchen table.
What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?
This body is the oldest thing I own. It carries me though it’s worn and broken in places.
It allows me to move through the world; to feel the softness of moss beneath my bare feet, to trace the curve of his cheek with my fingertips, to taste, to smell, to let the beauty all around me swallow up my senses.
It has created life within its delicate walls of skin and muscle.
This body is the oldest thing I own and it holds me with endless gentleness in a cradle of flesh and bone.
We placed buttercups in a jar at the center of the table the day we were married; they were unassuming and beautiful. Like the love we share. Not loud or extravagant, just warm and steadfast.
Our son was sick that day.
Our daughter was wound tightly with excitement.
There were no wedding arches or ballrooms, just the warmth of those we care about sharing the moment with us.
We said “I do” between tending a fever, wrangling wayward guests, and laughing, eyes wet with joyful tears. Celebrating the life we had already woven together with so much happiness, shared grief, and the simple threads of gentle, everyday love.
And today I saw the blooms of buttercups along the edge of the garden, the bright cheerful blossoms catching the sunlight just like they did the day we were married.
I saw those little yellow blooms and thought of that day, the days that came before, and those yet to come and it felt like us. Then, now, still. A deeply rooted love
bright and tender and growing.
just shadows lying long on the soil.
Blood in the Bramble 