THE GIRL IN
THE GREEN HAMMOCK

Grief keeps shifting, but love holds steady. On Mother’s Day, I stepped into the room I made for her — the one filled with Wedgewood blue, Shalimar, and the memories that still know how to find me.

A reflection on choosing the wild path later in life, fumbling forward with courage, and discovering that becoming isn’t reserved for the young — it’s reserved for the willing — especially those who know that love is in the process.

A few quiet moments to myself, and I realized, things are just as they should be...even when I'm not managing them.

I didn't know I was forgetting- until a green hammock reminded me. This reflection traces longing, compromise, and the quiet return to self. I no longer need a red hammock, or someone else's adventure. I do need trees, rivers, stars, and the quiet magic of home life. And I need the version of me who knows how to be still ~ I've always loved the quiet magic of homelife- the sanctuary of ordinary. But sometimes that doesn't feel like enough. Sometimes, I need my jaw to drop.