Seasons
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We came home with tired feet, sleepy eyes, and two little girls finally dreaming. The stroller sat by the door. The house grew quiet. For the first time all night, so did I. Then, as if the sky had been waiting for us, the rain began. Soft at first. A whisper against the windows. Then…
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He was so small the night could have swallowed him whole. One tiny heartbeat sitting perfectly still on cold pavement, waiting for a world that rarely notices the smallest lives. But I saw him. I don’t know why. Maybe because motherhood teaches you to notice fragile things. To hear the quiet cries. To watch where…
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She wasn’t waiting to be rescued. She wasn’t crying for someone to take her home. She smelled like warm blankets, full food bowls, and windowsills worn smooth by afternoon naps. A tortoiseshell shadow beneath a streetlight, wearing the confidence of a cat who knows exactly where she belongs. Still… she stopped. Long enough to lean…
Between Bruises and Blooms 