This afternoon, I sat in O’Hare airport for hours.
In 2018, I have so much for which I am deeply, unashamedly, and unrepentantly grateful.
A longing for one’s home during a period of absence from it.
Here’s the thing: life is sort of a pretty dream, if you look at it the right way.
What sort of world are we living in right now? What sort of hope is there in a society of extremes?
I went to my hometown salon this week, to see the stylist who had been taking care of hair (owning it, in his words) since I was in junior high, and we did something we’d never done before: We cut my hair.
Moving, the cause of such interesting emotions.