January 2019 My plane descends into Detroit on a Thursday morning. One moment it’s sunshine and blue skies miles above the earth, and the next we slip under a thick blanket of clouds, into the dreary morning of a Michigan winter. The airplane hums around me as I stare out the tiny window at the dismal Detroit River. It arches

I reached 5 miles with a smile. I turned at the half way mark, a pedestrian bridge across the Fox River, and I ran back down the ramp towards the riverside path. And then it happened. My ankle buckled. I flew with the downhill momentum. I landed in a heap, with a bloody knee and instantly swelling ankle. And I

The Voice That Sings

A year ago, I published my first blog post. I wrote out of the desperate need to tell my story, to share my grief after the death of my husband. I wrote about how there’s something deeply human about imagining worst case scenarios. A year later, in this 3rd year since Chris passed, I haven’t stopped imagining. And yet, that

I didn’t expect to be afraid of dying. The terror crept up slowly like the dawn until all of a sudden it was blinding and hung over my day. When I had planned out my life years ago, it was with youthful ignorance; predictable and familiar. I did not expect to become a mother who, exhausted and emotional, reaches for

Did anyone else think they’d have life all figured out by the age of 27? I did. My shy, pimply 14-year old self thought 27 would be a magical age: I would be happily married, growing a family and publishing my first novel. We’d be living in our first house with a friendly dog and regular dinner parties. I probably