dear graham // two

July 29, 2014

Photo Jun 27, 12 27 05 PM

Dear Graham,

You are so big. There are a lot of newborns around us these days, and when I see their little toes and rest one of their wobbly heads in my arm, I question whether you were ever really that small. You sense your bigness, too: you point out babies, those that are littler than you, wherever we go.

These days I have to lift one of my legs when you try to run between them. You can peel your own banana, and you like to drink from a cup without a lid. You have opinions (Mortimer over The Paper Bag Princess) and preferences (ice cream in a cone, not a bowl). Every day you surprise us with a new word, and how much you already know about its meaning. You’re generous and sweet, helpful and enjoy making other people laugh. I hope you never outgrow these traits.

[Heart it? Keep reading.]

Family, Graham |

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start where you are

July 15, 2014


I hate blog posts that apologize for unexplained silences.

I’m not going to apologize for trying to juggle without dropping any balls. For working too much and forgetting what it feels like to play. For baking strawberry cake and not posting the recipe. For reading things and not writing about them. For spending a day at the beach and not sharing a single photo of sand and sunburns. For eating ice cream without crowdsourcing my flavour selection. For wondering if anyone but bloggers even read blogs anymore. For being underwhelmed, uninspired, and spiritually exhausted in the most relaxed way. For living the stuff of life without turning it into content.


Sometimes you just need to start, again, where you are, and where I am is here.

Songs in the key of summer break:

Stay Cool
Four Burners
+ When You Are Tightly Wound

Thank you for reading. I write this blog for you.

Live |

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| 1 comment


February 18, 2014


Dear Heather,

This was the year you surrendered. It was hard for you to let go of the reins, at first, to unburdened yourself from the unknown. You embraced discovery, and were surprised by the beautiful and unexpected things that happened when you stopped dipping your toe in and started swimming with the current.

This was the year you stopped hiding and started seeking. You shared more of yourself this year than perhaps ever before, and it was so freeing (surrendering is an act of bravery). 

This was the year you began to feel comfortable in your own skin. You cared less about what people thought and trusted your decisions (and indecisions) more. Being you is much easier than trying to be the person people want you to be. And easier still than the person you think people want you to be. Because inside, looking out, is the only point of view you really need to know and the only one you can ever truly understand.

You thought less and did more. You connected, and reconnected, and disconnected – to people and to places and to opportunities. You learned over and over that action can provide incredible clarity, and planning can be, and often is, overrated.

You took things slow, and you rushed when you needed to.

At the end of your 34th year, you are calm and underwhelmed. You are trying to find the overlap and also realizing there is no overlap: it’s you, real and whole and unapologetically so.

Thirty-four is a shift in priorities: a closet full of high heels you have no desire to wear.

You’re a long way from 14, and in some instances, an even longer way from 24.

You’re surprised to find 34 is not unlike 17 (still your favourite age): on the cusp of something new and extraordinary, but content to rest where you are for a little while longer.

Breathe it in, and let it go, and take what comes.


Live |

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