Between Bruises and Blooms
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He crossed an ocean while she crossed the distance between fear and sleep, meeting somewhere in the safety of a voice through a screen.
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Some connections are terrible at staying and strangely gifted at finding their way back to the same conversation.
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If timing were somewhere they could meet, perhaps there would be a version of them that never had to keep saying goodbye.
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Izzy Bear may be soft, but socks, wrong-cut toast, empty snacks, and closed baby gates can still awaken the mighty forest creature.
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Most days she is Gabby Goose; sometimes Goosifer appears with a grin, a terrible idea, and absolutely no intention of listening.
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Izzy Bear tumbles into each morning soft, brave, curious, and already collecting tiny treasures from the world around her.
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Through the crib rails, a mother watches one small dreamer and remembers that safety can look like the simplest ordinary promise.
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A sleeping baby makes the whole world seem to whisper, held inside the sacred trust of tiny breaths and unguarded dreams.
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Beneath the moon beside a house reclaimed by forest, a small flame and glowing ember make the night feel older than it should.
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Home becomes a scent left on borrowed fabric—sawdust, sweat, summer, and the strange peace of breathing someone in after they are gone.
Between Bruises & Blooms 