Already this Year

my beloved cat passed away & other intimate musings from 2025

Already this year, I’ve written 7,291 words in poems over 57 pages. Being a conduit, widening myself to give life to something the shape of a breath through me to a page. I’ve lost my voice once, only a hoarse peep left. I’ve listened, and though I wanted to speak, I’ve been unable to. Already this year, I’ve cried twice about not being able to communicate quickly with my children due to said laryngitis, wanting so badly to ask them follow-up questions about their musings. However, I could only nod emphatically, like yesterday when my nine-year-old son Lou said, “I don’t know why, but I just live every day like it’s my last day,” before skipping off outside.

Already this year, I graduated from graduate school, and now you’re reading words from a Master of Poetry!

This year, I’ve let go of the timeline, delayed responding to 16 text messages and 24 emails, and spent that time writing poems or hanging out with my children instead.

Already this year I’ve written 88 notes in my notes app. Some of which are hilarious (see post script below). I’ve purchased flowers regularly and increased my winter-warmth wardrobe by two coats. Already this year, I’ve read 53 books of poetry and created a mood board with images that depict true peace to me.

Already this year, I’ve decided to offer more intimate glimpses into my unedited life. But as a deeply private person, I’m still considering how to move forward with this. For now, these details will be shared with those who choose to support this work—patrons of ALL DAY, of slowness, of attention, of the written word. Please consider gathering with us and supporting ALL DAY.