fly

this is certainly not the most difficult thing i’ve had to do this year. this past year of firsts, of fucked up shit and barrels of emotion. this past year of anger and… Continue reading

mother love

happy mother’s day! Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible. ~Marion C. Garretty

the art of jumping

i used to be scared of heights. i barely remember it now, being the kid who spent all her time in the tops of pine trees getting sap stuck in her hair and… Continue reading

laughing in the wind

we cruise together like this, you and me. we are only new in this way of time passing, days growing longer, feet reaching the pedals, wind in our faces. we needed this. this… Continue reading

kneel before nature

there’s a story my grammy would tell all the time. you know how it is, how some stories become legends because they are told so often by our elders. i love how she… Continue reading

how to have a beautiful day

wake up at 8am (that’s two hours of sleeping in!) the first thing you should hear upon waking is “let me give you a hug!” and “momma, what if the whole world were… Continue reading

photo and words

i opened my mailbox and found two copies of midwifery today magazine smiling back at me. something so full of beauty, that came to me just in time. it’s always the perfect timing… Continue reading

you, who are not me

i see your eyes. i see the way you carry the lunchboxes with overflowing arms. i see both your kids; the way one hides behind your legs and one bursts forward greeting everyone… Continue reading

literary me.

my life seems to be the constant forgetting and remembering. it’s cyclical. and for that i am thankful. it’s in those remembrances that i am fully aware, as if waking for the first… Continue reading

me, happy.

today i left the bookstore with my arms full. i wanted her to ask why i was buying four of the exact same magazine. but she didn’t. so i offered up my reasoning… Continue reading

  • taproot magazine

  • @camerashymomma on instagram

    a year ago today we landed in paradise and i sat unblinking on the balcony, staring out at the caribbean blue, and felt life splinter because the phone call i anticipated receiving for eight years had arrived just moments after we landed. your hospice nurse let me know you were ready to leave your earthly body. it felt like a trapeze act, a circus trick, a balancing act of human experience while we found our way together, two adults and three children: sharing a happy family vacation, our private beach wedding ceremony, and celebrating your life as you transitioned to death. life is always equal parts joy and sorrow, but never so much as that week one year ago. i still find you in the ocean waves, mom, and i know i always will. thanks for showing up in unexpected places. this, and a pocket full of seaglass; this is everything. sunshine sunday. as a mother you try to protect them for as long as you can. but media trickles in with the flash of news across a restaurant tv screen and suddenly you're in the middle of conversations about the NRA and government officials and gun laws and honestly honesty honesty. my parents never spoke like this; did they have to? or were they complacent and yes, happily republican, in a time when life felt so very different than how it feels now? or am i just a middle aged mom, a liberal raised by conservatives, an empath woman raising an empath son and fumbling through this razor sharp world? i often don't know what i’m doing. am i being honest? am i being too honest? i’m doing all i can to channel my frustration/sadness/anger towards legislative action and common sense gun laws. i’m just saying, it's a heavy heart when your 7th grader simply doesn't want to go to school because of recent school shootings and he’s able to express his sadness and rage at the office of the president while questioning the state of the union and the illusion of safety in this world he is navigating. @everytown #endgunviolence hello love. happy valentine's day! {homemade love for my love on his birthday} he's the most encouraging, positive, and creatively supportive husband around, so i wanted to make him something special for his 45th year. i drew this and carved it, then held my breath as i inked it and pulled the first print from it. i could.not.wait to give it to him this morning! life intersects and intertwines. weeks become months become years, until you look around one day and wonder if there was ever a time when you did not wake to see their face each morning. happy birthday to my favorite man @artfarmer “we are all a little weird and life’s a little weird and when we find someone who’s weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." thirteen. my boy. the master of expression. the kid who has always marched to his own rhythm. keep being you, baby, i'm so proud to be your mom. thirteen years ago found me kneeling at the banks of the river to channel her energy, to sink my knees into her wet earth after months of flooding rains. to ground myself, to tap into something greater than me, to channel the warrior women who came before me in lineage. to find strength from something, anything, bigger than me, to help guide me through homebirth. today i fall down the rabbit hole of old photos, old lives… and become that mom. the mom that hugs him while saying “20 hours of back labor.” he knows the story of his beginning: the coyotes, the birth tub, the out of body experience and the power of love radiating from the ten pound baby in my arms. today i am that mom that holds the memories, in the hours leading us to 3am. remembering the mud caked to the hem of my skirt and the blood on my thighs. the birth. the babe. the mother. thirteen years in the blink of an eye.
  • Meredith Winn

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