"Where Small Things Go"
Everyday life has its small unexplained phenomena. In this playful poem, a missing chapstick and a few wandering vitamins become evidence that my pockets may contain their own small corner of the universe.
"Inheritance"
Some inherit houses and heirlooms; others inherit storms and Inheritance is a spoken word piece about growing up as the raging sea between a lighthouse and a ship, best read while listening to “Experience” by Ludovico Einaudi, whose swelling crescendos draw every wave of abandonment, anger, and longing to the surface.
"Green and White, and Finally Quiet"
My green and white checkered blanket transforms the noise of the day into quiet warmth.
"How Does It Feel?"
A short essay on leaving a family-led charismatic cult, delayed grief, religious trauma, and how punk and metal music become rituals for reclaiming identity.
"The Weight of a Gray Afternoon"
Some days test us more than others. This is a piece I wrote about how a dreary Thursday afternoon almost kept me from choosing connection over escapism.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
"The Tides of Loss"
A poetic piece about parent loss, showing how grief lingers in ordinary moments and how love continues to rise with each memory.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
"Sundays in a Small Town"
This piece reflects on growing up in a Pentecostal environment shaped by fear, emotional turbulence, and silence, and the journey of reclaiming Sundays as a place of peace. It explores how deconstructing faith did not destroy it but transformed it into a life of quiet wonder, tenderness, and sacred slowness.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
"The Quiet Season"
A reflective essay about finding stillness and wonder in the changing colors of a neighborhood maple tree. As autumn unfolds, the narrator rearranges life’s pace to witness the tree’s radiant transformation.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
The Blue of October
A reflection on how October’s sky, clear and endless, reminds us to keep looking up even as the world lets go.
“Still Waiting to Exhale”
A raw, stream-of-consciousness piece about the lifelong exhaustion of survival mode—constantly running from pain, mistrust, and the past. It explores the ache for peace, the fear of stillness, and the complicated hope of finally feeling safe enough to breathe.
“The Carousel Between My Ribs”
YUNGBLUD’s “Zombie” has been on repeat in my head all weekend. It’s like he’s singing the feelings I can’t say, taking me back to a 90’s mall with my Walkman. This essay’s about how the song makes me feel raw, seen, and strangely free.
“The God Between Us”
A personal reflection on losing someone who’s still alive—changed by faith, distanced by doctrine. This piece explores the ache of longing to be seen and loved without conditions.
“The Wild That Holds Me”
Short essay about longing for realness, memory, and the wild spaces that remind us who we are when the world stops asking us to perform.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
“The Celestial Connection”
This short story was written in honor of my partner’s birthday, inspired by our visit to the planetarium last fall. It’s a reflection on how the universe—vast, beautiful, and full of wonder—can also feel incredibly lonely when there’s no one to share it with. That evening under the stars wasn’t just a quiet outing; it was a celebration of being alive together in the same moment, the same orbit. A reminder that even in an infinite cosmos, love is what gives it meaning.
“Coffee, Waffles, and George Harrison”
Some mornings don’t need to be extraordinary to feel special—just good coffee, a warm waffle, and George Harrison playing in the background. It’s those small, quiet moments that remind me life can be soft and good, even in the middle of a regular weekday.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
“Tuesday Tomatoes”
Lessons in gardening and life. How four little tomatoes showed up and reminded me that sometimes hope just means sticking with it, even when things get tough.
“Dead Dad’s Club”
Just sitting with the feelings and letting them be.
Photo credit: Jen Jones
“A Simple Man”
Tribute to Cpl. Anthony Clay Ward. Inspired by the song Simple Man, this piece is a reflection on laying down guilt and holding on to what truly matters — love, memories, and the simple truths he left behind.
12/16/81 - 6/13/09