I used to think I was the kind of person who never changed her mind. For years, I wore my consistency like a badge of…
How Language Shapes the Way You Miss a Place
There’s an ache that creeps in when you’re far from a place you once called home. It doesn’t show up with fireworks. Sometimes it’s just…
Why Writing About Yourself Is Not the Same as Being Selfish
For years, I kept a journal that no one saw. It lived under my mattress, then in a drawer, then in a password-protected folder on…
Why Writing About Yourself Isn’t the Same as Being Selfish
For a long time, I was convinced that writing about myself was a tiny act of vanity. Every time I sat down to put my…
The Difference Between Nostalgia and Remembering
Sometimes I catch the smell of sun-warmed pine needles and I’m ten again, barefoot on the driveway of my childhood home. It shows up uninvited—this…