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Preface

I’m moving to California for three months.

Not permanently, at least not as far as I know. But intentionally. I’m going for a change of landscape, a little distance, and the kind of quiet that makes room for a person to hear herself again.

I’ll be documenting this chapter as I go — part field journal, part personal essay, part record of what it means to begin again in the middle of a life rather than at the beginning of one.

Some of it will be about place. Some of it will be about work, identity, healing, courage, and whatever the California sunshine manages to reveal.

I’m not writing this because I have everything figured out. I’m writing it because I’m ready to pay attention.

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Who Knew Grief Could Move Me Forward

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A Pinch of Salt and Other Non-Negotiables

Roads That Raised Me

After the Hurricane, Still Salty

Who Knew Grief Could Move Me Forward