A few thoughts as they come….
Let’s See
So I wrote down
a collection of passionate thoughts
and posted them on this blog.
Felt pretty good about them.
Then—
I don’t remember when—
somewhere in the day I started thinking:
oh shoot, what did I just do.
The rest of the day I bounced
between “stay strong”
and “delete it.”
At 7pm, I caved.
Googled: should you be vulnerable with everyone?
The internet said:
probably not.
So I deleted it.
I don’t know
if I’ll post it again.
But—
why does trying to be honest on a screen
take such a toll
on your whole being?
This type of art is painful.
So now—
instead—
I have a few easier messages to share
because without hesitation,
these people feel worth sharing.
For my Dads mom, Grandma Yount, who is 98 years old and transitioning into her new assisted living center-
Never Too Old to Be Brave
Sixty-four years, side by side,
Then, in a breath, alone.
She packed her grief with folded clothes,
And made the unknown home.
Through echoes of a love now past,
She built a life anew,
Ten years, six months—another shift,
Another world to view.
At ninety-eight, she starts again,
With weary bones and sleepless nights,
Familiar voices left behind,
New faces, halls, and lights.
Like a freshman stepping through the door,
Unsure, yet standing tall,
With children, grandkids who hold her close—
But this is hers, above it all.
So when I fear a leap ahead,
A change that shakes my soul,
I'll think of her—so goddamn brave—
And now, I too—can be strong and whole.
For Friendships That Last
How special it is—
to go months, years,
or what only feels too long
without a word,
without a message,
without a trace,
and yet—
when you meet again,
it’s as comfortable as yesterday.
You know each other
in the heavy, the hard,
or at least,
you can share it openly,
love each other
for the light and the weight,
just as you are.
To celebrate
how far they’ve come,
or hold them
where they stand,
to simply be—
together,
sharing space,
Just this—
the ease of presence,
the quiet, effortless knowing,
the kind of friendship that holds.
For courage knows no age nor time,
No finish line to save—
She teaches me with every step,
It's never too old to be brave.
For Moms mom—Mia
My grandma is
a quiet, beautiful woman,
with a generosity so gentle,
it speaks louder than words,
filling spaces no one notices
until they feel it.
With an acceptance so steady,
she asks how you are—
wherever you are—
without prying,
without pretense,
just seeing, just listening.
With a love so invisible,
it doesn’t need to be named—
only felt,
only known.
For my Coworkers—
This is a poem about a very big lighting company.
Bigger than the studio itself, bigger than the shelves
stacked with pieces waiting for hands to coat them,
bigger than storage and the careful brushwork.
It expands, spills over,
moves into rooms where someone, right now,
is sitting under its glow—
a late-night thought unraveling,
a book resting open on a chest,
a slow morning beginning with a small stretch of light.
And I think, that’s something good.
But it isn’t just the finished thing,
not just the lamp placed just-so in someone’s home.
It’s what happens here, inside the studio—
the way we work around each other,
offering a laugh, a story, a hand where it's needed.
The way someone says, How’s your cat?
or Let me grab you some tea,
or Do you need assistance?
The way kindness moves in like breath,
like light that fills the whole room
without trying too hard.
And I think, my favorite lights in this company
are the people.
