Tag: gratitude

The Crow Who Carried Light

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A black crow beside a glowing lantern on a quiet porch at dusk, surrounded by wildflowers, a feather, and small shining treasures.

 

If I had to be an animal for a week, I would be a crow.

Not only because crows are intelligent, observant, and endlessly curious, but also because they are known for collecting little treasures. Shiny buttons, forgotten trinkets, small things that other creatures might overlook.

I think I already live a little like that.

I collect words, memories, quiet moments, and pieces of people’s stories. I notice the things that are easy to miss: the person sitting quietly at the edge of the room, the meaning hidden beneath someone’s laughter, the tiny spark of hope that survives even after a difficult season.

As a crow, I would spend the week flying above the noise, seeing the world from an entirely different perspective. I would perch in the tallest trees, listen to conversations carried by the wind, and probably bring home far too many shiny objects.

I would also thoroughly enjoy the freedom of being able to leave whenever a situation became ridiculous.

One flap of the wings and I would be gone.

No explanation. No awkward goodbye. Just a dramatic exit into the sky.

And, knowing me, I would still find some quiet porch somewhere, leave a feather near the lantern, and remind whoever lived there that even the creatures dressed in darkness can carry a little light.

Home Is the Place That Lets You Exhale

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Sometimes the place we’re searching for isn’t a destination—it’s the feeling we’re learning to create.

Rustic mountain porch at sunrise with a rocking chair, warm coffee, and a peaceful view symbolizing home, rest, and belonging.
                                                                 Sometimes home isn’t a place we find-it’s a feeling we create.

 

If you had asked me this question years ago, I probably would have answered with a mountain town in Montana, a quiet cabin in Wyoming, or somewhere surrounded by forests where the stars still outnumber the streetlights.

Those places still call to me.

I love wide-open skies, cool mornings, and the kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty—it feels healing.

But life has taught me something I didn’t understand when I was younger.

Home isn’t only a place.

Home is where your nervous system finally believes it’s safe.

It’s where you don’t have to explain your scars, earn your seat at the table, or pretend you’re someone you’re not.

It’s where laughter comes easily. Where coffee tastes a little better. Where people are allowed to be human.

Ironically, I’ve spent much of my life trying to find that feeling.

Now, instead of searching for it, I’m trying to build it.

Every essay I write, every journal I create, every quiet corner of my website is another board added to the porch I’m building—a place where someone else can sit for a while and remember they aren’t alone.

So where would I live?

Somewhere with mountains would certainly make my heart happy.

But more than that…

I want to live wherever love feels honest, peace feels possible, and people leave my porch feeling lighter than when they arrived.

That, to me, is home.

     A Fairytale With Glitter

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What’s a moment in your life that felt like it was straight out of a movie?

“Some fairytales begin with a prince. Mine began with a friendship.”
— Casey Edwards

One moment in my life that felt like it came straight out of a movie was the day I married my husband.

And honestly?

It felt like a fairytale.

Not because life had been perfect. Not because there were no obstacles or difficult chapters along the way.

It felt like a fairytale because of how unlikely the story was.

Before we ever became a couple, we were friends for ten years.

Ten years of conversations.
Ten years of friendship.
Ten years of life unfolding in ways neither of us could have predicted.

If someone had told me during those years that one day I would marry him, I probably would have laughed.

Yet somehow, all those years became the foundation for something deeper.

When our wedding day finally arrived, I remember looking around and thinking about the winding road that had brought us there. Every detour, every lesson, every unexpected twist.

And yes, there was glitter.

Because every proper fairytale should contain at least a little glitter. ✨

Standing beside my best friend as we promised to spend our lives together felt surreal in the most beautiful way.

Sometimes life writes stories that are far more meaningful than the ones we would have written ourselves.

That day felt like one of them.

“Some people spend their lives searching for home. I married mine.”

— Casey Edwards

Opening Doors

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If I had an unlimited budget for 24 hours, first, I’d buy enough coffee to keep me caffeinated for life. spoil a few people I love.

Then I would spend the day opening doors. I would fund shelters, support survivors, advocate for Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women, help families in crisis, and invest in spaces where people could heal. I’d make sure the people I love never have to choose between their health and their bills.

Money is powerful, and I think its greatest use is creating hope where there wasn’t any before.

Then I’d fund every dream project I’ve ever started, build a giant porch, sit with a cup of coffee, and watch a sunrise, grateful for the chance to make a difference, and probably still end up wondering what to do next. 😆☕🪶💜