If you’re in a TLDR mood, skip down a few paragraphs for today’s writing prompt!
As we say goodbye to our weekends, I’ve been thinking about goodbyes in general. I’m not about to run off to another country or suddenly sever the important relationships I value the most.
Grandiose goodbyes aren’t what I want to talk about, but rather the quiet, simple goodbyes we deal with every day, the ones that sneak up on us.
A friendship you thought would last forever is easefully dying. It’s already almost six on a Sunday night. You no longer have time to write…
Whether you write as well, have left your unedited novels in the comments section of my work, truly enjoy reading what I have to say, or are somehow related to me and/or love me and therefore follow me, I need you to know- I’m still alive. I’m fine. I’m thriving, actually.
Maybe you expected to hear that I had finally succumbed to the pressures of another writing challenge or got lost in the maze of Writing Twitter, never to be heard from again.
The truth is, I went on vacation last week, and I relaxed so deeply I…
Getting in the car. Flashing lights. Pregnant women.
What do these things have in common? They all remind me that a part of my life was lived battling epilepsy. You wouldn’t know it if you passed me on the street, but I was diagnosed at age 7 with epilepsy.
Over the years, our biggest worry turned from obtaining a license at 16 to make sure I didn’t die in my sleep.
I left an educational lecture once when a story was shared about the high quality of care provided to a mother who watched her daughter die, seizing in the…
Raise your hand if you meet any of these criteria.
I casually tossed my purple nitrile gloves in the trash can outside of North Hall, the memory of our last patient being dragged away by medics and cops alike seared into my mind.
I climbed into the passenger seat, one heavy boot at a time, of the Drexel EMS quick response vehicle. Our trusty steed hummed its familiar tune as my crew and I drove back to our headquarters where comfortable beds surely awaited our return.
“EMS 100, please report to North Hall for an intox.”
The familiar voice of a dispatcher crackled out of our radios through the car…
One of the first people who welcomed me to Argentina remarked, “Six months. Just long enough that by the time you’re ready to leave, you’ll feel right at home.”
I am a United States citizen, and in the six months I lived in Buenos Aires and traveled Argentina, it often did not feel like home. In fact, my friends and family may be surprised to hear how hard it was to leave given how often I called with bouts of homesickness.
In the weeks leading up to my departure, I could have stayed longer. I was finally at home in…
Today was my 2nd Zoom family reunion in a row. I’ll be honest, it’s just not the same. Missing pre-pandemic times led me down memory lane to peruse an old journal.
This journal was not pre-pandemic, but it turned up some relics from a day that I missed feeling connected to my loved ones. I found these brief writings from January 2021, just after Christmas, another beloved holiday in my family.
I’ve found time, rather how much time has passed, doesn’t matter as much as the memories of the time you can no longer spend with someone. The clarity…
When my parents decided to start a family
My mom moving in next to my dad
both beginning again
Do you want help unpacking, my dad asked
the rest is history
My grandparents deciding to have a 3rd child after 7 years
Granny saying yes to Grandaddy
after he finally bit the bullet and proposed
borrowing money for a ring that would buy him 66 priceless years
We see time as having a beginning, middle and end
But where love begins
I began long before I was born
in the dreams of my great-great-grandparents
dreams for a better…
The other day on Quora, I saw a question that went something like this:
“I can’t seem to sit still for more than 30 seconds when I meditate. What is wrong with my mind?”
I hear iterations with this question all of the time and it got me thinking about the barriers we put up that prevent us from accessing mindfulness tools.
In this article, we’ll dive into:
A writers group I regularly attend was recently asked to imagine our creativity like a garden. What does our garden look like? Is it empty or full? Are we ready to plant something new?
I said mine looked like bunch of newly planted 1-year old perennials that were stuck at a certain phase of growth. I was not feeling overly inspired that night.
Most writers or creatives rely on a feeling of inspiration on some level to get work done. …