The Jar of Buttons
An old woman. A granddaughter. A jar of buttons that holds more than anyone bargained for.
Continue reading →Thinker of thoughts · Writer of occasional verse
An old woman. A granddaughter. A jar of buttons that holds more than anyone bargained for.
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A few small, deliberate ways to actually rest when the season invites it — and we keep refusing.
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I have been confidently wrong about how long things take for my entire adult life, and I see no signs of improvement.
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I have been confidently lost in the same town for fifteen years. Here is my apology and my defense.
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There's a box in my closet I haven't opened in years — and I think I finally understand why.
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