three purple hearts

We stand on the edge of this canyon, the wind whipping stories between us, old laughter and shared dreams tangled in the gusts. Your voice, faint but familiar, echoes from a place I can no longer go. We both have searched for a bridge neither can build alone. But oh, how I tried. Stretching my hands and my heart, I pulled at the threads of our connection until they frayed beneath the weight of unspoken truths. Still the chasm grew; rocks beneath my feet caused me to stumble. I miss you. I miss the rhythm of a life we once shared, the harmony of understanding. But this canyon is deep, and the fall would swallow me whole. So here I stand, grieving. Not just for what we were, but for the wounds that have happened in the healing, the chains that we haven’t been strong enough to break. I ache for the freedom in which we could flourish, if not crushed by the weight we’ve been told is love. In spite of the pain, my hope—for you, for us—remains. Hope that one day the walls will crumble, the ca...

Life has gifted me family in so many different ways. Today, I am thankful for new and old colliding. For learning and growing together even though it feels like lifetimes have already been lived and we are just now discovering them. for my chosen brother.  The mind races like a storm with no horizon— thoughts crashing, overlapping, a tempest of everything, and yet somehow, nothing at all. It’s a storm of noise and silence, all at once. Focus? It bounces like a child’s rubber ball, escaping your grasp just as your fingers reach out. Ideas slip, not because you are careless, but because your hands are already so full. And the weight of this life? It’s heavy sometimes,   like the sky fell on your shoulders and forgot to leave room for light. The darkness doesn’t knock—it seeps, quiet, uninvited, curling around the edges of everything. You carry it all—what else can you do? You carry it all, and keep moving, too. I see the strength it takes to get out of bed when the weight wants ...

There’s a pulse in the air, a rhythm I didn’t know I was moving to until now. A door cracked open, and I’m standing at the threshold, palms tingling, heart racing, wondering if I’ll be brave enough to walk through. It’s not fear— not exactly. It’s the kind of nervous that comes when you realize something could matter. When you see a spark and think, What if this catches? Soft smiles feel warm, like the sun hitting part of me I forgot needed light. The way they listen in a way that ensures me I am heard. The way words linger in my heart, building history that defies time. This is a language I didn’t know I was fluent in,   A safety that is as familiar as it isn’t. And I want to dive in, but also, I don’t. Not yet. There’s something about leaning in that makes me pause, like holding a delicate gift I’m afraid to unwrap. What if I’m too much? What if they see the tangled mess inside and decide it’s too wild, too loud, too me ? But then again, what if they don’t? What if they step clos...

  a meditation for who we were. Once, we believed together. A faith so vast, it felt like the sky itself, a shared promise that stretched endlessly, wrapping around us like a safety net. We stood side by side, two souls tethered to the same hope, the same truths. But time has a way of unraveling things, doesn’t it? Not all at once, but thread by thread, questions whispering like shadows in the corners of a room we thought was full of light. I followed those shadows, walked into the wilderness of doubt, letting my faith stretch, bend, and break apart in places so it could grow into something new. You stayed, but not without a cost. I still see the weight of your questions, the quiet unease behind your smile. You told yourself staying was safer, that roots were stronger than wings, even as you wondered if they would one day hold you back. You stayed, not because you never doubted, but because you feared what you might lose if you let go. Now, when we speak, there’s a quiet ache benea...

 a meditation for who we are. When laughter ripples like a quiet stream and dreams begin to echo yours, you know. Not in the way you know a fact, but in the way you know a song— Because it’s familiar,   like it’s always been there; softly being hummed in the background, waiting to be sung in harmony. At first, it seems like all breathing stops, waiting to see if the air in this space is safe. Quick, shallow breaths reveal the fear of all that has been,   soon changing to a collective gasp of surprised joy. Tension exhales itself in a rush, peace settling in its place, like the whole universe sighed and said, “Yes, this is right.” Hearts meet at the crossroads of laughter and hope, of dreams unfolding side by side. It feels like finding home in a stranger’s smile, like you’ve always been walking toward this moment— toward these people even when you didn’t know the way. This isn’t chance. It’s alignment. It’s rhythm. It’s the kind of connection that makes you believe in som...