Everything

Halloween celebrates ghosts — but the scariest ones today live online. And not the “strangers” my mother warned me about either. The real horror is exposure . I grew up online. The internet remembers everything... even the things we wish it didn’t. (Hello, old YouTube account I can’t access. 👋) Now, as a designer and a parent, I think about what that means, not just for our kids, but for our parents. Just because they’ve seen a lot doesn’t mean they have the tools to spot th

Chanel No.5. Waxy lipstick. The clip clop of leather heels. Smell of my mother lingers since I was a little girl As an adult, I know my mother's scent A soft musk That I only get When I go in for a hug deep sighs and closed eyes a shot of hydration in the desert of passing time But as a mother, I see my daughter this radiant ridiculous joy and wonder Could she have been my mother in the faraway countryside smelling of manure mud, long blades of grass a hard days fragrance of

( for Mormor ) I met a wilting flower at autumn’s end. The chill in the air made us wrap our arms around each other not for warmth or comfort, but as a barrier against the arriving winter. I passed by her resting spot today. There was that small hump, the soft curve of a stem a summer well lived a wildflower gone to bed. She laid beneath the sky, petals spread like memories, leaves folded in the shape of a prayer. I imagine she bloomed first in the spring brighter, taller, fe