I sang in my makeshift gown. I danced.
Wrapped for Winter
It mattered to us because she took the task seriously— protecting us from cold, hoping for a little peace inside the house, and we understood both.
The Darkest Night of the Year
The heretics, wild and unrepentant, beyond gifts, lighting up the dark.
The Runaway Christmas Tree
All we needed came to us that Christmas in unexpected ways.
Liminal Theater
Fear brushing the edges of my heart as I faced becoming a mother.
The Tinsel Year
There it stood— tall and proud— a completely tinseled tree, silver from top to bottom, hiding even the lights, even the ornaments behind curtains of dazzle.
Wildlings at the Fire
We’d dance like wildlings around the flame— chanting, poking, laughing, fierce with purpose, alive with that edge of danger we so loved.
Alligator Vigilance
No one could explain the genuine disappointment in our chests to not need to be alligator-vigilant.
The Sisters in Their High Castle
All was pristine white because their purity was kept like that— as much as the quiet, private world they shared.
Ghost Breath and Molehills
my siblings and I would seek out the molehills to stomp on the needle ice— a strange and wondrous phenomenon.
Jasmine on the Grave 