The Weight of Small Hands
I watched my niece yesterday as she tried to fold her tiny hands exactly like her mother’s while we sat at the dinner table. She didn't know why we were pausing, or what the words meant, but she understood the gravity of the silence. It was…
The Breath of Stone
The air at that altitude tastes thin, like cold water sipped from a rusted tin cup. It carries the scent of dry earth and ancient, sun-baked dust that settles deep in the back of your throat. I remember the feeling of pressing my palms against…
Chasing Our Own Shadows
On our walk through life, we chase our own shadows – of who we are, or once were. We always want to keep rising up and above our shadows. We try to reach the unreachable, think the unthinkable and in the long run we end up being distant from…