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Here’s the thing about Mom Monday: it’s supposed to be this wholesome Pinterest-core day where moms share crockpot recipes and Target hauls. Meanwhile, I’m over here living in a court-ordered parody of motherhood. Instead of soccer practice or bedtime stories, I get “7 p.m. Wednesday phone calls, monitored.” Like, I didn’t even know parenting came…
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There are days I wake up and feel like a battlefield no one stayed to clean,memories scattered like shell casings, trust buried somewhere beneath the smoke.I’ve been abandoned so quietly it echoed. People leave in pieces, and somehow I’m always the one left holding the blueprint of what we almost were. I’ve stood in rooms…
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The world is burning–and still, the sun blooms at 6:04. Someone loses everything,and a stranger leaves tulips on their doorstepwith no note,just hope wrapped in stems. I hear sirens,but then a child sings off-keylike she invented joy that morning. I see wars and wounds and headlinesthat bleed out louder than my thoughts–but then a hummingbird…
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What is the curefor all this madness?I can’t even cross the streetwithout imagining my obituaryin a headline that spells my name wrong. A child screamsbecause the iPad died.His mom scrolls TikTokwhile holding up the drive-thru line.The chicken nuggets are cold.The world is ending. Becky is at the counter again–petitioning for paper strawsin a plastic cup.She…
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The Ink Chapel 