Quarantine is a strange experience. The days blur together, time moves slowly, and there's plenty of opportunity for reflection. And here's the thing: I've had a lot of time to be sorry for myself. I've wept and mourned the loss of Rome. I've reminisced and railed against the unfairness of it all. And now? I'm moving on.
Behold, Israel: your King. There He is, in all His glory: bruised, naked, bleeding, humiliated, betrayed. What outrage; what sorrow. It’s nonsensical, that this would be the death of the Messiah. The cross is no symbol of salvation or triumph; it’s an execution device for common criminals. What agony He must feel, His pierced hands… Continue reading Good Friday, Holy Saturday
It happened as I was getting yogurt, of all things, last Friday morning. I was in my numb mid-morning haze, spilling granola on a laminate countertop and trying not to think too hard about anything except schoolwork, when the music floated its way into my head. It was simple: just a soft, understated melody, a… Continue reading hallelujah
When I was a toddler, my papa popped his dentures out of his mouth right in front of me. Wailing, I desperately tried to try to stuff them back in with my chubby toddler hands, certain that something was very, very wrong. It’s one of his favorite stories to tell now; he always gets that… Continue reading for papa
When I moved into Hobson hall, I was unaware of a great many things. I didn’t know, for example, that the metal bed frames groan loud enough to wake the dead, or that the water fountain outside my door has the best water on campus, or that sharing four showers with twenty other girls apparently… Continue reading I have kids now?
There are exactly four shops in town, and if you don’t blink, you might see them. That’s not what you’re here for, though. Follow the road as it winds through trees and orange-flagged property lines, and on the left — there. That stretch of hillside, untamed despite the trails woven through it. That slice of… Continue reading seabeck
It’s 1:53 pm and Annika and I are camped out in Symposium Coffee. We never actually intended to come here — not to Symposium, not even to Tigard. But I suppose that’s what happens when a bus leaves you stranded. I should back up, probably. The day began far too early for a Saturday; we… Continue reading oaks park, rowing, and a whole lot of rain
when you lead friends through the steps for their first time, you tell them that it’ll become more natural, this step-step-rockstep rhythm, until it’s like a heartbeat and they can’t scratch it out of their veins. you’ve seen it over and over, that fire light in people’s eyes as they stumble through the charleston for… Continue reading sing sing sing
It’s 7:30pm, the clouds above are pink-lined and glowing, and the streets of Newberg are just beginning to come alive. “What’s that?” Annika asks, mid-crosswalk. It turns out that ‘that’ is a stand of free bananas fosters. I clutch my styrofoam cup close to my chest, look at Sarah with wide eyes, and mouth what… Continue reading first friday
It started with my two cousins. We were so close that our aunt dubbed us (and still refers to us as) “the three musketeers,” but the 9 hour trip between our hometowns made spending time together a challenge. Letters became our way of bridging the gap. We weren’t very good at it, to be honest.… Continue reading pen pals