Former Career Fire and EMS Lieutenant-Specialist, Writer, and Master Photographer.

Tag: Life


  • What If the Moon Is the Only One Who Ever Really Understood Me?

    There are nights when I step outside into the silvered darkness of my Vermont farm, and the only thing I feel truly seen by is the moon. The world is quiet here—just the chorus of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl—but above me the moon hangs like an old friend. Its pale light…

  • The Kind Of Memories That Don’t Knock Before Entering

    There are nights when my mind doesn’t so much think as it wanders—quietly, like a stray animal, unsure of whether it’s welcome. Thoughts drift like smoke in an abandoned room—aimless, fragrant, impossible to catch. They curl into the corners of my brain, wafting through the wreckage of old memories, clinging to the peeling wallpaper of…

  • The Places That Made Me, And The People Who Never Left

    Some mornings, you don’t wake up so much as you surface—pulled out of a half-dream, half-memory place where the weight of the past is heavier than the day ahead. Today was one of those mornings. I woke up already sad, already somewhere else, and I let it happen. The playlist was Bear’s Den and Bruce…

  • Track 12, And The Girl I Used To Be

    The stereo’s spinning again. Not a Bluetooth speaker, not some cold digital stream humming through soulless plastic—but an actual stereo. The kind with physical buttons you can punch down like you’re dialing into a memory. Indigo Girls – 1200 Curfews. Track 12. Closer to Fine. A CD I’ve owned since it came out, and one…

  • The Pieces I Left Behind: Returning Home, Finding New Love, And Remembering What Matters

    There are places in this world that never quite let you go, no matter how many years pass, no matter how far your life carries you away. For me, that place has always been Stamford, New York—the small town where I grew up, where this chapter of my story began sometime in 1987, long before…

  • I Lived Fast, And Bled Slow

    Some nights I sit with the silence and feel like I’m eavesdropping on my own past. The 1990s were the best decade of my life, and I don’t say that with any polished nostalgia or rose-tinted yearning for mixtapes, AOL Chatrooms, and pagers. I say it because I was still half-feral then—caught somewhere between a…

  • On Nicknames…

    On Nicknames…

    Some names are given at birth—chosen in hospitals, whispered in delivery rooms, penned on certificates by people who may or may not have any real idea who we are yet. Others are earned through fire, dirt, resilience, and reputation. Still others are worn like armor, or masks, or sometimes both, depending on the day. The…

  • On Friendship…

    On Friendship…

    This past weekend, I drove back to the place where my story began. The road to my mother’s house is the same as it’s always been. That drive always stirs something in me. A reminder of who I was before the world turned hard and unforgiving. I didn’t just go to see my mom. I…

  • From Rescue Girl to Rebirth: It’s Time To Run The Banner Down

    There comes a moment in every life—every soul forged in fire, tested by wind, worn down by time and lifted by impossible grace—when you look at the sky and realize the storm isn’t passing over. It’s waiting. Waiting for you to stop standing there like a goddamn monument and move. That’s where I am today.…

  • A Reflection On Love, Loss, And What Remains

    I drove like hell through the night, the highway stretching endlessly before me, my headlights cutting through the darkness like a blade. The only sound was the hum of the tires on the asphalt and the music playing on my cell phone. I didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. I just kept driving, pushing forward even…