• Essays

    They Still Need Us

    We were inside the house, my twenty-two month old son and me, and he seemed happy. We’d traveled all the previous day to get to Walla Walla, Washington for my sister’s graduation from university and both of us were ready for bed. Then, from far off, a rooster crowed. My son instantly started to cry. A terrified, gasping cry that would not be calmed. This had been happening all day: each time the rooster crowed, Abel wept. I cursed the rooster, but even then I knew it wasn’t its fault Abel was terrorized. It was mine. Upon arriving in Walla Walla the evening before, I had handed my son off…

  • Essays

    A Tale of Two Moose

    A Few Days Ago… My son and I had just finished our daily mile run, he in his stroller and I huffing and puffing behind it. We still had to walk all the way back home, but first we would stop and rest and say hello to our favorite horse. We were past the corner of Idle Drive and Tranquility Lane, where this lovely old horse lives in a pasture, Pioneer Peak as a backdrop. My son loves this horse. I love this horse. We hadn’t seen him all winter and it felt like we were greeting an old friend. We squealed and talked to him while he munched hay…

  • Essays

    On Writing and Motherhood: Navigating a New Way of Life

    Lofty Expectations for Writing and Motherhood When I was nine months pregnant with my son, I was a completely different person than I am now. I didn’t really think about writing and motherhood as being connected. My baby would fit neatly into my writing life, of course. Like a puzzle piece. And into every other aspect of my life as I knew it. In other words, I was one of those obnoxious pre-parents who thinks she’s the best parent ever. Who thinks parents and their kids should live tidy lives where kids shouldn’t throw tantrums or bother parents too much. Yep, you know the type I’m talking about. I was…