Just as I move my hands through materials to make sense of what I feel, I turn to writing to make sense of what I think.

Making has always been a way for me to process emotions — writing offers me a similar space for thoughts, memories, questions, and the things that are sometimes difficult to comprehend or speak.

My mother loved to write, and I have always shared that impulse with her. After her loss, writing became an especially important way of moving through grief. Putting words on a page gave me somewhere to place the thoughts and feelings that had no other place to go. Sometimes writing helped me understand something; sometimes it simply helped me carry it.

Here, I’ll share some of those writings. Some may be reflections, some memories, some fragments, and some may simply be the ramblings of my mind. I share them in the hope that something in these words might resonate with someone else — a feeling recognized, a memory stirred, or perhaps just the comfort of knowing that we are not alone in the things we carry.