Author Archives: heidi

Speaking the language of the djembe, learning how to play guitar, and becoming fluent in ASL are all good goals, but they are future-stuff (hopefully near), and I’m not yet very good at any of them. Whereas it finally hit … Continue reading →

After living in the RV for three months in Illinois about ten miles from our secured-to-the-ground-house which is now rented out to another family, we headed south west. Our first brief settling place was the KOA in Springfield MO, an … Continue reading →

Monday afternoon marked three times in one week, and the first time in eons I’ve encountered such nonsense. I actually began to doubt myself, even to feel a bit badly, as if I were doing something wrong, or was a … Continue reading →

I’ve deleted countless lines in favor of something better possibly just around the next thought. I give up in favor of the mundane, the silence of Starbuck’s where all I hear is reggae, the hiss of steaming milk, and young … Continue reading →

We have glorified your culture, yet left you cold, dry lands, infertile soil we once pushed you in to (at gunpoint and lies). We have knelt at the altar of your beauty and imagine it defines you, accepted your healing … Continue reading →

Between loads of laundry, she writes. Pumpkin bread for a sunny afternoon, egg salad dinner, boys making noise after sunset. She holds still on a small couch, still between key-clicks, word tricks, a deep inhale of cricket songs, and a … Continue reading →

leaves racing over ground play music like falling rain – leaves turn to confetti beneath our tread (back and forth to any place) we stretch cool faces into it, that autumn-cast wind, a slow breeze here, a rushing there, then … Continue reading →

I like the back of the bookstore. I am alone among pages I will never read, allowed to listen to Tori Amos free of other people’s energy bouncing around. On the way to a wooden chair I learned there is … Continue reading →

it is in (considering) that vastness, stretching out unknown in every direction where i can sink or swim soar, or find my wings caked in mud spin, spin, spin away i am a single tear glistening the breeze cooling my … Continue reading →

5:30 am, morning, yet dark as black night, coffee brews, its aroma an enchantment. I wish we didn’t have to wake the boys, shattering their comfort, though I’m excited to share the first edge of sunrise together, and we have … Continue reading →