The aching pangs of loneliness that remind me my home is not on this side of heaven Receiving a letter from a pen pal sealed in a little yellow envelope Snow days and sledding down hills on plastic bin covers Throwing my head back to look at the freckled moon and all the stars The deep, silly laughter between good friends that comes out after the food has gone cold and the sun has set. Peeling potatoes and singing to the Beatles on a Saturday afternoon The sweet melody of cha

The Song of Songs Tattered notebook pages tattooed with thoughts Standing barefoot in the kitchen and watching the sunrise through the window Wandering through seemingly endless library bookshelves Cooking slowly and intentionally with friends The thrum of the commuter rail pulling in to Fenway Station, as heard from the second floor apartment on Mountfort Street Aching muscles sinking into bed Running down the street wearing a dress on a Friday afternoon to make it to the ba

Watching the sky bleed pink over the reservoir Letting the howling wind sing me to sleep Running my fingers along the little pearl beads on Nana's old rosary and imagining her speaking the same prayers all those years ago The smell of rain-sodden earth Saint Gabriel of Our Lady of Sorrows The boundless generosity of my coworkers Kneeling in front of the Blessed Sacrament, shoulder-to-shoulder with an entire pew of friends who are fighting the good fight with me A wide-eyed ba