Life Transitions

My mother's kitchen, 7pm. She's making dinner and telling me about her day, and I'm standing there thinking about a one-bedroom I toured on Saturday that I haven't told her about. ...

My mom calls every Sunday. Same time, same chair in her kitchen, and lately the same question, delivered like she's just making conversation: "So — found a place yet?"

I had a list of fears before I got a dog. I wrote them down, because I'm the kind of person who manages anxiety by making lists. The couch. The new carpet. The 6am walks in weather...

My cat is my whole world. She's four years old, gray, opinionated, and she sleeps on my chest like she owns the place — because she does. I adopted her when I was in a bad place, a...

I swiped three hundred times last week. I know because the app told me, in that cheerful way apps tell you things they think you'll enjoy. 300. And when I try to remember a single ...

The brochure has been in my drawer for two years. I could describe it from memory — the cover photo of people looking fulfilled, the course list, the application deadline in small ...

I've been to the shelter four times this year. Four. I know the route by heart now. I park in the same spot. I always tell myself this time I'm just looking, just supporting the ca...

I'd been browsing apartment listings the way some people scroll — mindlessly, at 1am, my thumb doing the work while my brain was somewhere else. The place I'm in now is fine. It's ...

Sunday night. 11:47pm. Been scrolling for — actually I don't want to know how long. Long enough that my thumb hurts. Long enough that I've seen seventeen people I barely know doing...

Sunday afternoon. Park I don't normally go to. Bench I didn't plan to sit on. Golden retriever, chasing a tennis ball into the pond, same arc, same splash, same shake. Seventh time...