“get to work”

Get To Work.

From “The Triggering Town” by Richard Hugo.
One of my favorite texts on poetry and writing.




The summer of 2001. 5am. The front steps of the Duomo in Florence, Italy. Our bodies are merely specks amongst the magnificence.

Though this photo was taken over ten years ago, I still look at it in awe. I know there’s a poem hidden in this picture–I suppose I’m still trying to find it.

We had been out all night, my friend Molly and I, along with a few other Americans we had met that summer. We were walking back to our apartment close to sunrise, so we decided to head towards the Arno and watch the colors from there. From the Arno, we circled back to the long corridor of the Uffizi, abandoned by tourists at this early hour, only the pigeons and cigarette butts remaining, the stoic statue faces of artists and philosophers watching us.

The Duomo was on our way home. We had never seen it so deserted. It felt scandalous to be alone with this masterpiece of art and architecture. While the city was still asleep, we frolicked on its front steps.

That summer, we began to find our place in the world. A few twenty-somethings, so small in the grand scheme of things.


the open road

the open road

We got away for a night. No children. This is the first time since the adoption that we’ve left all three children overnight. This is the first time in over three years that my husband and I have gone on a child-free vacation. Twenty four hours of freedom.

There’s a feeling you get when you face an open road. The further you drive from home, the more you can start to feel like a real human being. There is more to life than the routine rigor! There is finally room to lift up and out of the dailiness of life and remember who you are and what is important to you.

As we drove into the gray autumn sky, I could feel the world open itself to us again. Perhaps we aren’t as boring as we feel that we’ve become! Perhaps, under the weight of obligation and responsibility and dailiness, we are both still there. We haven’t disappeared or evaporated. After all of this, our hearts are still beating.

It is the weekend before thanksgiving and I am grateful that the world still reveals itself to us in new ways. I am grateful for friends that make these moments possible, people to support us and remind us that we are all in this together.


How did you spend the weekend?

What are you grateful for this weekend?