Woke

Summertime is my favorite. Every night, we sit on our back porch (which we can FINALLY enjoy without layers of coats and complicated zippered undergarments) passing a doobie back and forth, staring out at the view of our neighbor’s yard against a backdrop of low-slung mountains. And we congratulate ourselves on being so damned woke….

Nobody Knows How to Love You (Unless You Teach Them How)

When I birthed my firstborn, my mom stayed with us for a week and organized our pantry. Slowly, over the course of seven days, our dry goods and snacks were divided into clear plastic containers, each with a shiny white label neatly attached. “Rice.” “Sugar.” “Snack nuts.” This was her gift to me, the one…