I love porches. They are architects of hope.





I have owned porches with a partner in the past. Perfect porches littered with backpacks, bikes, skateboards, fairy dust.

I rent now.

Porches are mothers.



Safely lighting the way home. Always.

This morning I am sitting on mine. Alone. Coffee. Dog. Birds. Rain. Los Angeles.

Barely thinking about the absence of my mother or my job of mothering in this life I still live in title only. I welcome myself home. Motherless. Fearless.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s