No Words – Only Love

When I look at this photo of my nephew, what do I feel? Hint: Look closely.


Honestly, I’m starting to question if May and June are really my favorite time of year. I always think they are, for obvious beauty/celebratory reasons, but then they hit and they hit HARD. May/June has been rather March/April like for the last two years. I’m talking weeks of rain. A dreadful extended winter. Our last two Mays have been miserable. Now things are gorgeous, but while the rain has calmed down and given to calm skies, don’t be fooled. It’s the most hectic time of year!

Like this week? Des turned FIVE! Five alive!



I had a little trouble with it. (or a lot) I took the morning off from my normal duties and Cassidy took the kids to school. One of my school friends gave him flowers and chocolate to give to me. She gets it. The push/pull of celebrating their years and milestones, but wanting to hold them closer too. The end of the baby/toddler/preschooler era is a tough one for me. I’ve never had this feeling, because I’ve never had to have this feeling. I see littles and I want to cry. Luckily the cutie in the top photo is a little, and he’ll have a littler little sibling too. And I know the sex of the baby! I might even tell you here.

Now we have entered the funny zone – the Grief Corridor. It’s both old and raw. My Uncle Steve passed away a year ago on Des’ 4th birthday. That same week, my beloved Penny passed away. Do you remember her? I still think about her so much:




I just unearthed all those old photos of her from January, 2016.




I’m writing this on Thursday, the 15th, which was my father’s birthday. My grandmother passed away three years ago today – on my father’s birthday. My father passed away on July 2nd, and my grandfather passed away on July 2nd five years ago. Seriously. Those were my mom’s parents – passing away on my father’s birthday and the same date he died. My sister wrote this on Facebook: “June 15….. my biological father’s bday, the first date with my husband (our first anniversary), and the day my nana passed at 100 years old…. that’s the thing about life… where there is up, there is down, but the up is so so so worth everything else. Happy 6/15, a day I honor my marriage, my father, and my nana… all living on through my love and my children💓” What else can you say? She’s the sister whose son is in the photo above, by the way! Cycle of life.

no words

This Grief Corridor doesn’t mean I’m not happy, or not finding minutes of calm, work and children willing. It just means bodily memory and a foggy head. A bit of a heat daze, and a deep appreciation for everything and everyone. We’re planning two birthday parties right now, and my birthday will follow. Next week is Des’ preschool graduation, as well as a visit from “baby” Parker. The chickens are finally in the coop and no one can get them in there. It’s a fortress. Not even this one can:

Then we have these photos I took of my nephew.

It doesn’t need words, does it? When I look at this photo, I feel hope. I feel confidence and stability and dwell on all that is RIGHT with the world. I feel like maybe I’m not done having kids, but if I am, the kids, nephews, and nieces I have remind me gently and not-so-gently that THIS is what we have. Sometimes, no words. Sometimes, only love. And that’s how I feel.

P.S. It’s a girl!

This is me linking up, as one of my favorite things to do, with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “When I look at this photo, I feel..” And there’s still time to write yours. Come link up with your spin on the matter: HERE.

I’m a Little Broken, and That’s Ok

I mean, where would I even begin?

I have a history of an anxious mind. I have Gone Days. I have a Fever. I have PTSD. I have The Curious Case of Crying During Benjamin Button. Take your pick around here. I’m nearly wide open. There are pieces of it scattered throughout this blog.

And it’s rather fun to find it again. Easter eggs.

You can throw in how I sometimes feel so much, that I feel nothing. It’s broken down and bottled up, or broken up and bottled down. Sometimes there’s only a second of difference between the two. I have that nearly invisible inch between feeling nothing and feeling everything. I know what it’s like to have your heart pound and your stomach in your throat at nearly invisible triggers – tied by nearly invisible string – trailing between these nearly invisible miles – for days, weeks, months and years – into oblivion. Always invisibly tied to you – the tether – while sailing off in some distant galaxy or two.

It’s ready to hurl back and trip you at any moment. I get that.

I'm linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week's topic is

I know the way your heart can wrap around a missing person you only ever almost knew. I know what it is to be completely bowled over by love, and to only have it happen the tiniest amount of times. Of so many faces.. in so very many places.

It’s sort of amazing the way it only happens once or twice a lifetime?

I also know the truest feeling of heartbreak – it’s like an endless dark cloud over you – and your life can be going amazingly, which it has a way of doing when you’re less invested in outcomes, but you still feel like you’ll never be happy again.

Don’t worry. You will be.

I thought so long about which of my broken stories to tell you. Which one to choose? Where to begin? Then I realized that I’m sort of just one big broken story, and that’s ok. I’m proud of my breaks – I wear them proudly with their sloppy bandages and flimsy casts. All the while, the bone and the flesh has a way of forming and stitching itself back up again. When did I feel most broken? I couldn’t pick one time, but sometimes those inner demons make it harder to fight the ones out in the world, and the ones out in the world distract you from fighting the inner ones at the core. They arrive. You rise to meet them.


To let yourself be broken is the key to putting yourself back together again. You don’t even have to go it alone. All the King’s horses and all the King’s men are gonna try to put you back together again. You just have to find what works.

Being broken means you’re alive

Being broken means you’re growing

Being broken is going to fuel you

Being broken means you’ll understand yourself and the world better

Being broken means you’re going to put yourself back together

Being broken means you’ll meet a new version of yourself

I’m linking up with Finish The Sentence Friday. This week’s topic is “I felt the most broken when..” You can link up HERE.

When did you feel it the most?