If we were sitting together, this is where I’d pour us a cup of something warm.
This is a place for the stories we live through, the ones that stay with us, and the quiet moments in between.
I come from a long line of storytellers. I’ve spent much of my life paying attention to the moments that slip past unnoticed—the ones shared around kitchen tables, in passing conversations, or long after the moment itself has ended.
Deception doesn’t begin with a lie. It begins with our need to believe.
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A true account of control, courage, and the cost of walking away.
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A quiet story about childhood, memory, and growing up too fast.
Learn more →I work with groups of all sizes on topics including loss, trust, resilience, and life transitions. Each presentation is thoughtfully prepared with the audience and setting in mind.
If you’d like to talk about an event, you can reach me here →
Pull up a chair. These are the stories that keep finding their way back to me.
Front Porch Reflections
I’ve noticed over the years that grief has a way of settling into the stories we tell ourselves. Sometimes those stories are true, and sometimes they become so familiar we stop questioning them.
A few years ago, I wrote a reverse poem after thinking about how differently life can look depending on which direction we’re facing—and which lens we’re looking through.
If you’d like to reach out—about a book, an event, or something that resonated with you—I’d love to hear from you.