There are twenty-one days until the 2024 election. Looking at the last seven days of our lives, four of them contained crying. Wait. Make that five.

I was born under a new moon and during a partial solar eclipse. The light and I have been in conversation my entire life. And we have many more things to discuss.

When I found myself choking back sobs as Wilson the volleyball floated away on screen, I knew it was time.

Yesterday I watched a man have a mini panic attack in the grocery store. He wandered into this aisle and stopped dead before the lone super pack of toilet paper. Judging by the look on his face he’d just vomited in his mouth a little.