I woke up tired this year—emotionally weary to my bones. December had ushered in a festive reprieve from the overshadowing challenges of the pandemic, but January seemed to
Imagine for a moment someone cupping your face in their hands, looking deep into your eyes, and telling you with genuine conviction how much they love you.
Until last spring, my dining room table was a slender oak relic I found at a garage sale for fifty dollars. We had refinished it along with its extra leaf and replaced the sliding mechanism underneath.
