strange, sweet reminders

There’s a cicada husk in a very, very tiny jar on my dresser.

If this sounds odd, it is. It’s also, given a very particular set of circumstances, an incredibly sweet reminder:

My mom lived, and her living could be such strange fun.

On March 4, I posted “The Magic of Fighting Monsters.” I wrote about the absolute magic I’d experienced fighting monsters in an immersive theatre show a couple years prior.

That show had connected me to the experience of being with my living, breathing, horror-loving mom; in those moments about which I wrote, she was very much alive to with me. Continue reading “strange, sweet reminders”

young life

A few days ago, I noticed a hummingbird flitting around my backyard. I told my husband, who said she’s built a nest in her same old spot.

Same old spot? Somehow, I’d never once noticed what was, to Anthony, a predictable part of life at this house.

He pointed out the teacup-sized nest of twigs and feathers, nestled in a rosebush right at my eye level.

This morning, I saw the hummingbird darting all around the backyard. I wondered if there was life in her nest.

Sure enough, I soon saw tiny twin triangles of orange peeking over its top. Without getting too close, I snapped a shot or two on my phone.

Soon enough, the mom returned to her baby, perching protectively at nest’s edge. I snapped a couple shots of this, too–this time, from a greater distance so as to not send her flying too soon. Continue reading “young life”