Author: Dani

I'm a parent, aspiring novelist, and an admirer of those "in the arena". In truth, dear reader, I'm unsure what this space will become, but I hope you'll join me as we discover its heartbeat together.

Duplicity out. Decency in.

I recently held my sobbing husband in my arms as he choked out these words, “I think he’s going to win.” It was the first time I’ve seen him so desperately somber, so utterly broken by this tyrannical climate in which we’ve been living…and dying. My husband became a North American son on April 19, 2016. After taking the Oath…

Spring’s Sweet Arrival

A gaggle of geese return to our street each winter while migrating from one place to another. They arrive in January, around my husband’s birthday, and I am surprised to find them behind our house, honking like cab drivers in traffic. Most leave with babies but one pair can’t manage to have any; I’ve watched them sit for years on…

To Grieving Fathers on Father’s Day

Whether you began here or here, your goal was this and eventually this. But something went terribly wrong. So you’ve spent more time here and here than you planned. When they call to ask about her, you tell them. When they neglect to ask about you, you think, It’s okay. I’m okay. And when they say things like: “God has…

To the Woman Who Offered Me Her Womb

Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed, cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub of watery fingers along its edge. The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe, remembers being a veil over the face of the sun, gathering itself together for the fall. The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under its belly, remembers legs like wings,…

Dear Uterus: You Are a Murderous Bastard

In my head, murderous bastard just isn’t right. I mean, certainly there are more eloquent ways to express my hatred of your serial killing, your incompetence when nurturing a fertilized ovum, and your obvious disdain for human life. But nothing comes, so murderous bastard it is. In days past, I looked down at women who were in the place I…

An Open Letter About Time

Dearest Reader, I received a call four days ago. It was one of those calls; the kind that even the phone knows is bad. I was told my father couldn’t speak or move. He had been found that way. “The ambulance is on its way,” she said. “We’ll call once we have more information.” In the car, I looked through…

#KateNeedsHelp

There are moments when we choose to look into someone or look away. This is one of them. If you have it to give, please consider donating. If you don’t, please consider keeping these sweet people in heart as they move forward and rebuild what was razed to the ground. Be the Village. If not in pocketbook, then in heart…