Occasions

My sous-chef drizzled the maple sugar on the scones with more skill and style than I’ve ever brought to bear. My return to work weighed heavily on my heart and mind all day.

Spent the morning with my loves at a cozy coffee shop in Arlington. I wrote in my journal about 2013, about my hopes for renewal and rebirth. My girl began writing in her tiny purple Moleskine, too. Tonight we will light candles, share our writings and craft a family vision for this year to come. Then we will pop popcorn and play a game, and then we will blow out...

Pre-dawn whispers (I stuffed my head under a pillow and went back to sleep). Presents opened before the eight o’clock hour. Hot coffee from the Chemex. Sweet, soft challah French toast eaten continental style by a bad piggie. Organic, fresh-pressed juice to cut through the sweet. Beautiful music streaming through the house. Gentle, quiet focus on a new art.

For the first time, my girl helped braid the challah, her small fingers gently moving the ropes and curling in ends. We used the knife as a chisel and popped chunks of Callebaut in our mouths while we worked. The challah baked up quick. We left the hot loaf to cool on a wire rack and drove to church, where I sat on the edge of my seat as our...

Three of my photos have been selected to be a part of the InstantDC Mobile Photography Show 2011, sponsored by the DC Ad Club and APA and in partnership with FotoweekDC. Opening night is Wednesday, November 9th at Interface Media Group, 1233 20th Street, NW, Washington, DC. I attended this same show last year as a wannabe. I moved from grouping to grouping and wondered if I’d ever be “good...

A sign hangs at the beginning of the long driveway, but I only catch the first word, Woods, white painted letters on dark pine. We pass fenced pastures dotted with small barns and stands of tall trees, only tufts of orange and brown leaves left at their very tops, their bodies spare streaks below. The horses lift their heads as we pass. We park under an old maple and haul...

Four cousins who had never met became fast friends. The brothers gave a free concert to the frogs in the pond, and the frogs gave a free concert back to the brothers. And I floated barefoot through the clover and whispered to the fireflies, and refilled my margarita glass once or twice.

I turned 37 years old on an eastbound Metro train. Two German women sat talking across the aisle from me. I caught every tenth word or so. A Vietnam veteran and his family waved from the front of the car, thanking me again for guiding them through their passcard purchase back at the Vienna station. A warm and little six year-old hand rested on my belly skin for comfort. I...

Last week we sat together on a single chair at Starbucks, waiting for our Frappucino. I piled her long limbs into my lap and circled her with my arms, holding in her angles and big feet. I rubbed my nose into her hair, and she closed her eyes. “You two are so in love,” said a woman to us in passing. “That’s so rare to see.” She lingered in the...

This night I watched a man at the bar stroke his wife’s hair over and over again. I watched women and men stumble around the makeshift dance floor in front of the band. I watched my husband strain to hit some high notes while nailing most of them. I crouched in corners behind my camera. If life was a spectator sport, I’d be world champion.