When Blue Paused for Purple
The evening descends. The air thickens with unspoken truths. The air carries the weight of what’s unfinished, drifting like memories half-remembered yet elusive.
Archive
Where Absence Lingers
The morning felt wrong. The door, always latched before sleep, resisted as it opened, as though something unseen had passed through first. One presence remained, yet the chair by the window had moved—angled slightly, as if someone had left in a hurry.
The Season of Almost
The air carries a quiet hesitation. It is neither warm nor cold, holding onto the last traces of winter while hinting at something new. A jacket feels unnecessary, yet the moment bare skin meets the wind, doubt creeps in.
What The Night Holds
Some moments refuse to fade; they settle heavy, pressing into the quiet. Daylight blurs into dusk, the world's hum softens, and something unnamed stirs.
The Photograph
The photograph slipped from between the pages of an old book, drifting to the floor like a forgotten receipt. It landed softly, undisturbed, a moment resurfacing without intention.
Reclaiming Her Voice, One Word at a Time
Ava knew how to disappear. It started with her voice. Once, she spoke softly, carefully, just enough to be heard. Even that had begun to slip away. At first, she raised her hand, answered questions, and even asked them.
Unlearning ‘I Can’t’: Fostering Independence
Belief in one's ability to grow is a powerful force, yet setbacks can cause that belief to waver over time. At six, Oliver couldn’t zip his coat. Despite his coordination and strength, the task became a symbol of frustration.
Everyday Exclusions: How Discrimination Shapes Life for People with Disabilities
It starts small. A job application goes unanswered. A restaurant lacks a ramp. A stranger speaks to the caregiver instead of the person with a disability.
The Slow Wait
The bus stop has no bench, just a cracked stretch of pavement where the curb slopes unevenly into the street. Heat shimmers off the asphalt, pressing down on the small crowd.
Shifting Spaces
The bookstore smells like fresh coffee, a blend that invites pause. I move with small, deliberate adjustments—shifting my weight, using my walking poles to navigate the floor.