Because of palm trees that drop palm fronds which could fall on people, and which cost you $2000 to clean up, and because of the shared fence that leans between my neighbor’s yard to mine, and because of rats and raccoons that travel back and forth between my house and the church, and because you can only spend so much money on your cat to find out what’s wrong, and because one day you will need to pull the plug even if you don’t feel ready. And because you’re not god, but sometimes forget, carrying the world on your shoulders as you do, and 2am wake ups, and how Gray sleeps curved against my legs, and because of ear plugs and face masks, and still the sound of critters behind the house in the night. 

Because of tennis shoes that get discarded after 9 months because you’re so hard on your feet, and for lucky underwear worn on certain days, the pink or blue cotton ones that bring you the best results when things are looking rough. Because of Dodger baseball tickets and how mom texts to say she has them for May 13, and for gas and long car rides and boredom and music and popping things in your mouth because of the miles, and teachers, and people who stay in relationships because they’re afraid to be alone, and because of dating apps, and what a bad idea it is to look at them first thing in the morning, not because no one has matched with you, but because you’re going to swipe left on some perfectly wonderful people and that is an unkind way to start the day. 

Because of pillows and good sheets and windows left open for cool air. Because my mother made it easy for me to forgive myself for my outstanding outburst last February, how I screamed and screamed at her and she said, “Get out of the car,” and I said “No you get out of the car,” and an hour later when I apologized she held me. And because it still took me 24 hours to look her in the eye, and because when I did we actually saw each other. And because she tells me she feels weaker and more tired and because there is not enough time to waste on anything.

Because of salty things and night time baths, even without candles, and for the way I can see the sky changing out the bathroom window as I lay in the water; first light blue, then a little pink and finally the dark, dark of the night, and how even as the water cools and drains I lay there because everything has gone still and I’m not ready. 

For all the apologies I make to myself and to others, and all the things that will change; the cooling coffee, the milk going sour, how we’re always trying to remember what day it is, what month it is, and did I pay Maria? And how many weeks until Mark leaves? And when will I see him again? And the wedding, how he’ll wear my grandfather’s tuxedo because he was the only man in the family who it fit, so there you have it, there it goes, all the reasons.

* Inspired by the poem Make No Apologies for Yourself, by Glenis Redmond https://www.glenisredmond.com/ 

Wild Wonder Small Group Classes

ARE YOU READY TO TAKE A DEEP BREATH, RELAX YOUR BELLY AND FIND YOUR HOME VOICE?

Wild Writing is a deeply therapeutic and transformative writing practice. It’s a simple and intuitive method to help writers to break through writer’s block and access their true voice—without judgment or critique.

Using poetry as writing prompts, each 90-minute class is made up of three writing exercises, followed by each person reading aloud. There is no critique or feedback. It is a class where we write as freely as we can, we read, we listen and witness.