I fell in love with poetry for the very reason that most people despise it. It's filled with hidden meanings. When I was a teenager it gave me a place to explore the emotions and questions that seemed taboo in my conservative Christian home. That sentiment never left, and most of my poems even to this day are written about deeply personal experiences that I feel I can never share in the light of full disclosure. My Instagram feed has turned into another experience like my poetry. I've been posting lately a lot of relatively cryptic messages comprised of photos I take and lines from various pieces of literature (including my own). If you knew the stories behind them you might cringe or hold a grudge or judge me, but that's okay. A lot of life is happening right now. I'm taking some huge risks. I'm making mistakes. I'm searching for answers. I spent the day at the beach this weekend with a friend. We let the strong current carry us far from our camping spot, ...

I had a simple plan for the summer. Basically, I want to get up each morning and walk 3 miles, write for a few hours, and do some stupid little project around the house like fold the clothes in the third drawer. Um, it hasn't happened. While I was at the library Monday working on the writing project I just finished at 5 this morning, I found out my niece was going to come down for her visit that day. After a frantic house cleaning session which more resembled making sure I picked all the bras out from between the couch cushions and at least lined up my shoes by the front door, I only had 9 of my 25 articles outlined. Despite my best efforts to write in the morning before she woke, I found myself writing for six hours last night, stopping three times to set my cell phone alarm clock for 10 minute naps in my desk chair. They're done. Right now I wouldn't trade the dark circles under my eyes or that sickly feeling in my stomach. My niece had never seen the Gulf of Mexico. She ...

My dearest friend, Nadia, and I went to the beach yesterday. It's a delightful little gem about 30 minutes away from my house with squeaky-white sand and countless shells. We've been beach partners throughout our friendship, so this was a fun way to spend the last day of our weekend together. We chose our spot and set up. Nadia opened her beach chair with 2 clicks, tossed her towel on top, and slapped on another layer of SPF 30 sunscreen. She had this all done before I had even unwrapped my umbrella. She's such a beach pro. We're such beach opposites, but we're both drawn to the lure of the ocean. My favorite moment of the day was when I saw Nadia's eyes open and a smile crease her face as she looked over at me. What a pair we were. She stretched out on her chair with her swimsuit positioned just right so the sun would paint all the right places. I was wrapped in a blanket sized beach towel under an umbrella still wearing my hat and sunglasses. Yeah, I'm a r...

I went to the beach today. Although I've been remiss about actually going to the beach since I've lived here, I love the beach. I love living in a beach town. This was my first time at Sanibel, and the first time I've seen the Gulf in 8 years. (Indialantic and Melbourne were a much closer drive from our old house.) This was very much a spur of the moment event. I was sitting at a stoplight and noticed the signs toward the beach. So I followed. The trip was brief. I walked for about twenty minutes along the white powder strip and let the ocean's roar fill my head until it pounded out everything else in there. Lesson plans? Gone. House cleaning? Zip. Bills? Nada. I suppose that's all I needed. I have no recollection of the people there. All I recall is the crash of the waves, the brightness of the sun reflecting on the sand, the salty air filling my nostrils. And the joy of wandering. I didn't realize until this afternoon just how much I miss wandering.