At my last appointment, my doctor said my blood work looks good. All of my numbers were in the normal range including my inflammation markers. "This is good news," he said. "I think we should lower your dose of *medication*."

If you've been around my blog, you probably know how I feel about taking medications. I'm not afraid or "anti" about it, but in general, if I can make do without it or with less, that is what I will choose. So I agreed. And he sent the new Rx in to the pharmacy and Mr. Amazing and I left the appointment feeling proud and satisfied.

I was all, Look at me over here, improving. Didn't I tell you I was doing really well? I knew I was doing really well. I could feel it.


Since the beginning of June, I've been taking half the dose I was taking. (Side note: for reasons I'll never understand, the cost of the Rx at this dose is the same as the cost for double this dose. What kind of trick does the pharmacy think they are…

40th Birthday Poem

For me, the New Year starts     in August when the heat outside     makes mirages on the pavement, and there's an abundance of ripe food on the table     fresh from the garden.

This year     will mark the 40th trip I've taken          around our sun. And I'll be happy to be one year older.

But while everyone else          plans out their dream trips          and special events, I am stuck wondering     if I'll even be well          when the day comes around.

Maybe it is understandable,     the slight pangs of jealousy I feel          whenever the others          talk about their own birthday plans. But even if it is understandable,     that doesn't make it any easier           to feel.

Haiku #3

Hope made visible In the tiny buds of spring Giving us new life

February Haiku

Walking beside you small fingers entwined with mine my heart overflows

Trusting the process I turn my face toward the sun and begin again

A Letter To My Body

Dear Body,
 I am writing you this letter because there are so many things I never say to you even though I speak to you daily. There are so many words that I have for you yet I feel like I don't even know where to start...but I suppose anywhere will do.
You have carried me through just shy of 40 years of life so far. It's crazy to think about that much time having passed. In some ways I still feel far younger than that, but as you know, in other ways this body feels much much older.
I spend so much time hating on you, I know. And I know it isn't fair. You put up with so much abuse from the way I constantly run into things to the way other people comment on your is so incredibly cruel of me to add my own hurtful comments on top. But I promise you, I'm trying to change this. Really, I am. 
We've been through so much together and despite the really bad years we've had recently, you've continued to carry us both forward, making possible what fee…


November and November memories. That is what the harvest brings.

For me this means thoughts of Kansas, of cousins, of candy corns and love.

When I was growing up we went to Kansas for the harvest. My grandparents were farmers. They grew wheat. They had cows and chickens. And a big family.

We would gather on the farm every November, children spilling from every room. The men would sit in the living room talking politics with their deep voices. The women populated the kitchen and dining room, preparing all of the food. The children ran from one room to another chasing each other or hiding from each other, out through the plant-filled sun room, through the sliding back door into the yard and around the house only to come running back in through the front door.
Sometimes a few of us would go for long walks around the property. We climbed on hay bales and fed stray cats and hunted for animal bones in the trees that lined the edges of the street. We'd touch the electric fence. We'd…

Revolutionary Beauty

I’m sitting on her bed, leaned back against a pillow with my legs tucked up near me. She is telling me about friendship and my heart is breaking open. Words tumble from her mouth in a flood of breath and I think, I don’t know how to help.

Memories of my youth fill my head along with my sisters’ voice. Just this summer, when she visited, she sat on my couch and talked about growing up without friends. I saw. Being only a year younger, I remember…yet somehow the depth, the severity, escaped me then. I was so busy following people around, pretending that I was more outgoing, more comfortable, more of everything I wasn’t, to notice how deep my sisters’ pain was.

My mom must have cried a lot, I think now.

There I was, a world of trouble and anger and rebellion, so self-absorbed and trying to find my own way. And there was my sister, brilliant and kind, but a type of lonely that few understand.

The world can be so cruel.

My daughter is beautiful. She excels in her classes. She possesses an under…