DiaBLOGue

Magic, Memory, and Mother Earth

From Matriarchs I come from a multigenerational line of women who crave Mother Earth. My great-grandma worked in Yellowstone National Park every summer and married a Yellowstone architect. My grammie basically grew up there, as…

Don’t Worry . . . Bee Happy

Stonehenge was a disappointment. If we had shown up for the summer solstice, we could have touched the stones while watching the sun rise. However, that would have involved fighting our way through a crowd…

Panini and Psilocybin

“Pretty girls don’t buy cocaine,” Greta[1] says and laughs as she walks out the front door. My hands and face sting as I stand frozen in the entryway and hear her start the car. I’d…

Subjunctive Cases

Listen to an interview about this piece here. Laurie zips up her red jacket and curses God and Dennis. Except God probably doesn’t exist. Dennis exists. He is right in this moment existing in their…

The Shape of My Family

A family is a thing with edges. The edges can grow, shrink, smooth off, and get spikey and sharp. The changes that happen can be full of joy, sadness, loss, trauma, comfort, or strength. None…