A last Small and Simple Message of Gratitude

Thank you, deeply, for the time each of you took to read my stories. It meant so much to me. Life is busy and complicated and time is stolen by so many tasks, and yet, you made time for me each time I wrote. How kind.

I am ending this writing space. I haven’t had anything compelling to say for some time. I’m not sure what that means but I would like to take some time to figure that out.

What I do know is there is so much to be learned in the small and simple stories. They are all around us. Let’s keep listening, maybe lean in, shall we? You don’t need me, you can do this.

With care,

Suzanne

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A Small and Simple Story about Violet and Her Boundaried Empathy

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A Small and Simple Story about Violet and Her Boundaried Empathy

People who know how to lift up others without losing themselves in the process understand sustainability. They naturally draw upon what I think of as boundaried empathy. Let’s face it, our reserves are low and a lot of us are feeling tapped out. I am. These last few years have been a bit of a slog. Yet, I notice there are still those who are able to give with thought and intention while accounting for their own deeply held limitations, then teach from that example. I pay close attention to them. 

A Small and Simple Story on Observing Chaos

A Small and Simple Story on Observing Chaos

I’ve always admired people who can work well in the midst of chaos like those who serve with grace in emergency rooms or in restaurant kitchens. Writers, on the other hand, need quiet. Really good writers, or at least those who produce, are disciplined and ritualistic. Most write at the same time of day for a fixed period of time, typically in the same place. Writing takes priority above all else and anything short of a true emergency will not move them.

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A Small and Simple Essay on Self-Preservation

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A Small and Simple Essay on Self-Preservation

At the turn of the new year, I resolved to take things a little easier, tamp down the anxiety, something I’ve carried like a heavy, leathered satchel of unease since childhood. I was tired and thought maybe in the face of immense pressure I could create change. I didn’t have a plan, I would just do it, during a raging virus variant and the onset of a sweeping and unsettling home renovation, I would will myself to be calm because I needed it so much.

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A Small and Simple Story in Celebration of One Perfect Strand of Lights

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A Small and Simple Story in Celebration of One Perfect Strand of Lights


This year Lydia would drape tiny white lights along the deck railing. And hang the three artificial wreaths with ruby red ribbons she bought at the after-Christmas sale last year on her front windows. Where did she put them? Peter had been gone nearly four years. It was time for light, relief, a welcoming of spirit.

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A Small and Simple Story About Why Giving While Grieving Feels Powerful

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A Small and Simple Story About Why Giving While Grieving Feels Powerful

Mary darted through the fabric room at the quilt shop with purpose gathering a vibrant stack of both vivid and muted cotton. Too many to carry, she lay her collection on the cutting table as she parsed through shelves, plucking a bolt from here and there to add to the pile until satisfied she had found precisely what she needed.