pelling has never been my strength (praise ChatGPT for the assist), but words have always had me hooked. Writing started as a way to make sense of whatever life was serving up—chaos, change, or the occasional revelation.

For as long as I can remember, words have been how I make sense of things—the world around me, the moments within it, and the space between them. What began as private reflection slowly found its way into something more public. The spelling may be questionable, but the intention never is. These pieces trace the story I’m still learning to tell.

Everyone’s got a story; this is just a slice of mine.