I come from nomadic people.
truthfully, my parents aren't wanderers. they like order, roots, solid ground, but they journeyed far to find it. from the flat streets of the midwest suburbs to the rolling black hills of South Dakota. from the barren tundra of rural Alaska to the wounded, hot Blue Ridge.
I fostered in these travels a love of movement and a mistrust of stillness, sameness. I became a wide-eyed watcher of the world, and sought comfort in the sharing of ideas and words. secretly shy, outwardly confident, my polish-chipped fingers have traced the dirty railing of city streets, gripped the handlebars of bikes down bumpy roads, and held hands with lovers on slow walks home, stitching together moments into fables. these small hands have buttoned costumes backstage, rubbed the weary backs of tired students, and clasped together in troubled moments - seeking, seeking, always seeking something. I've yet to settle into my full realness. and so... we are uncovering how we learn, and unearthing our gentle peace, and tasting the air and light. we are wrapping ourselves in love and unfolding, moment by moment.
I am a fiercely undecided being, with fingers and toes in many pots. I dabble and dip, determined to discover the waiting pieces of myself, like water molecules floating through space, hopeful a collection will gather and rain upon my open soul.
I am a dreamer and a romantic and a mama, always, seeking magic, and telling truths. Together with my sweet daughter, Pearl, I live at the foot of the Blue Ridge mountains in central Virginia after what seems like a lifetime of swampland excursions in New Orleans. I am a teacher, an amateur baker, a crafter, a people-watcher, an oily mama, and a lover of shoes, champagne, and stillness.
the journey is shared here. come rest awhile.