Love and Worry

A Friday morning, February, 2020:

The subway doors open, a crisp air bursts through. I scoot over and adjust my book. 

A passenger picks up her phone. I envy her polished dress. “Hello?” she says. “This is Shannon. Yes, yes, he’s my husband.”


I look down. Please let her husband be ok, I pray silently. Let her family be ok. Let everything be ok. Yesterday, a friend confessed her motherhood worry. “I’m constantly worried something will happen to us,” she said. “Is that normal?”

It is for me, I told her.

Must a life of care mean a life of worry? The phone call, the news, the constant churn of worry’s white noise machine. Is this fundamental to feeling, to love?

Shannon looks up from her phone. “Yes, we’re looking to sell the condo,” she says.

I exhale, a little too loudly. The subway doors open.

A Friday morning, February, 2021:

I’m curled up in a pillow fortress, a book in my lap. Nearly one year since my last train commute. A year since I regularly witnessed small moments in strangers’ lives. A year consumed by a pandemic, cancer, loss and growth. So many somethings have happened. All quietly. We’ve loved and worried in isolation. I glance at the page below, a poem:

Nothing must happen to you

No, what I am saying

Everything must happen to you

And it must be wonderful

Did worry prevent anything? No. Was it all wonderful? Absolutely not. But even in worry, there was love. One part of everything, one part of so many somethings.

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale —an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in this series “280 Words”.

Beach Day

On this, the 28th day of another month in quarantine, I was feeling pretty grumpy on a conference call this afternoon.

A colleague mentioned a psychology theory (I can’t remember the name!) that describes the power of looking a photos to trigger memories and shift moods. As he spoke, I opened my phone and saw this little auto-created film in my files.

It was pouring and gray today (and thank goodness, we need like 50 more rainy days), but this winter beach day memory made me smile. It was a freakishly warm day and we picked up sandwiches at our favorite Point Reyes Deli and drove over to our favorite Tomales Bay Beach. I read A Promised Land, David napped, and Diego spent hours in the water. For the first time, in a while, we all felt a little bit relaxed.

I’ve been extra grouchy about the Bay Area’s obscene cost of living lately, and seeing this memory helped me put some of life in this interesting place in perspective.

Looking forward to more beach days-hopefully, hopefully after many more weeks of excellent rain!

Hello, 2021!

Happy New Year!

Sending good thoughts, energy and hope for the year. This is the only photo I took today, but a Boichick Bagel breakfast was definitely an act of beginning the year as I wish to continue.

Grateful it’s only Friday and there’s a whole weekend ahead for reflecting. Been doing a fair amount of that this week. Turns out, when the day isn’t consumed with Zoom and email, the brain can rest and wander a little! It’s been nice. Trying to soak it up. There’s certainly plenty to think about.

Last night, we made our traditional New Year’s Eve Amatriciana. This year, Diego was much more involved, so it took about twice as long, flour was EVERYWHERE, but it all delicious and a happy memory.

Hoping to capture more memories as little films this year-here’s a first attempt :)