Childhood

  • Fairies

    Life is too short to dismiss the possibility of fairies. I’ve never seen one. And the imposter within me doesn’t even believe. But I’ll never stop looking. I’ll never stop pestering my children to look. And when we find such… Continue reading

  • Music: The Most Beautiful Dimension

    I’ve just been at the Piano. I’d like to tell you a story about that, actually. How my piano came to be my ultimate happy place (and healing tool, you might say.) It’s in my soul, I think. Music. It’s… Continue reading

  • When I Grow Up

    When I grow up I am going to be a kid again. Continue reading

  • The Twelfth Day of Christmas

    On the twelfth day of Christmas, her sleeping babes warmed her heart from their beds. What joy might tomorrow bring for them, she wondered, remembering the magic of being a child on Christmas eve. She remembered lying in bed, listening… Continue reading

  • Dear Santa

    Dear Santa, It’s the second day of Christmas and here I am writing to you! Surprise! I know. It’s been FOREVER. I’ll try not to leave it so long next time. I wonder if you’ll even get this little email… Continue reading

  • The Voice

    We are like two dots on a musical theatre map of the world. And every time I fall into a moment where it’s just him and me, and all the musical love hearts…I just can’t help but feel changed. Allow… Continue reading

  • Darling Day 24. The Darling Tree

    This is the Darling Tree. Isn’t it lovely? And oh-my-GOODNESS. I have an idea! Why don’t we climb it? Together. Just like we did when we were pipsqueaks. Just like we did before we painted our serious faces on. Don’t… Continue reading

  • Darling Day 5. When I grow up

    ‘Mum?’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘When I grow up, I wanna be…’ ‘…a digger.’ ‘A digger?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘You mean, like…the machine?’ ‘Umm…no.’ ‘Oh. Like…a man that digs?’ ‘Umm…’ ‘Like, you know, holes and stuff?’ ‘Umm…yeah.’ Silence. Silence. Giggle. Sigh. ‘Darling. You can be… Continue reading

  • Darling Day 2. Paper Rain

    I’ve got my little boy to thank for it; this paper rain that taps on the roof, every time the wind blows. To the adult eye—the eye that’s been battered and bruised by the duller shades of life—this paper rain…it’s… Continue reading