The sirens sounded behind me as I rounded the corner in my beat-up Camry. It was late 1999; I was 21. It never feels good to get pulled over by the police, but when the cop told me I had an expired registration, I wanted to sink into the floor. The notice to renew was …
On Being Gentle: For #WholeMama
When my oldest daughter was a toddler, her favorite thing to do after lights-out was to stroke my arm. I have a variety of moles; she’d rub them like little worry beads. In my head, I felt honored by her touches. They were (mostly) gentle, and meant that my very body was a comfort object. …