If I could sit across the table from you, I’d tell you that it’s felt like forever since we broke bread together. If I could sit across the table from you, I’d say that the cacophony of voices in my house — rising and falling with each minute — is…

Oh, those Covid kilos. They’ve crept on, haven’t they? …

The table is full, both of friends and of food. The smell of spices is rich in the air, wafting from plates and plates of lovingly prepared dishes. Wine is poured into glasses liberally from wineskins stitched soundly and holding the best of the best — only the best for…

It’s the wait, for me. Those in-between times when there’s nothing you can do but wonder if this is the time it works. It’s the wait for the fertility window to be open. It’s the wait for the period to be near. It’s the damned three minute wait between peeing…

I lay atop a pastel purple yoga mat on the floor of my study. …

It isn’t the wedding you imagined, but it is the beginning of the life you’ve imagined. It’s the end of the slow goodnight before you part for sleep, and it’s the beginning of sleepy mornings, sipping tea or coffee and having muffled half-conversations about nothing and everything all at once. …

The garden is barren right now. What once was filled with promises of the harvest has withered away and been tossed into the compost, and the soil sits without seed or sprout. …

The whispers of Christmas are growing into a chorus that you can’t ignore. It’s been coming for a while, as people put up Christmas trees in hopeful defiance against the wearisome worry that 2020 has brought with it. Perhaps, we think, these lights twinkling on the tree will drive away…

Have you ever seen that quote that goes around on photos of sunsets? Something like ‘what if you fall, my darling? Oh, but what if you fly?’ …