Describe yourself in four words. 
I had been staring at the question for an hour, and I was sure that even my application was laughing at me at this point. It shouldn't be this hard, I groaned internally. 
In fourth grade, my dad decided to teach me philosophy.
I was a smart kid, and he didn’t think I was being “challenged” enough in school. He didn’t know, of course, about the kids who called me “miss piggy” on the playground. He didn’t know about how I had to carry my pencils in my pocket so they wouldn’t get stolen from my desk. He didn’t know because I would never-- could never tell him. 
In my eyes, my father was a saint, and I never wanted to disappoint him. So I put up with his lengthy explanations about people I could never meet and didn’t think I would ever understand. He started out with the basics: Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle....

I thought we were made for each other. We went everywhere together: the park, school, the bathroom. We slept in the same bed. I comforted you when you cried and celebrated with you when you succeeded. You got your snot, and milk, and crumbs all over me, and I didn't care because I loved you. You called me your blankie. You wrapped yourself with me when it was cold, and I always warmed you up.
So why did you abandon me? Why did you leave me, crumpled into a ball, under the seat of the airplane that terrible day? Why did you pack up your stuffed monkey and pig and books and crayons and leave me on the floor? Why didn't you come to lost and found and collect me the next day or the next week? 
I thought that we would be together forever, but I guess I was wrong. I shouldn't have assumed you'd always want me, especially...

There are many things I discovered this year that I did not know in 2019. Back then, I did not know I would someday need to wear a mask at the grocery store. I did not know I would be forced to do school online. I did not know about protests that would overtake my city and country. I did not know about the mental health struggles I would soon battle or the time I would spend at the hospital. And I definitely did not know that, after all the pain of 2020, a picture book would become my greatest comfort and favorite read.
Over the years, “picture book” has become synonymous with “children’s book”. However, the two are not actually the same at all. And, if you don’t believe me, one read of The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charles Mackesy will change your mind. 
The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charles...

There are many things I discovered this year that I did not know in 2019. Back then, I did not know I would someday need to wear a mask at the grocery store. I did not know I would be forced to do school online. I did not know about the mental health struggles I would soon battle or the time I would spend at the hospital. I did not know about protests that would overtake my city and country. And I definitely did not know that, after all the pain of 2020, a picture book would become my greatest comfort and favorite read. 
Over the years, “picture book” has become synonymous with “children’s book”. However, the two are not actually the same at all. And if you don’t believe me, one read of The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by Charles Mackesy will change your mind. 
The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse by...

"The boy the mole the fox and the horse" by Charles Mackesy is the perfect definition of a universal book. Although it is written in the format of a picture book, it should be required reading for humans of all ages, genders, ethnicities, and religions, not just kids. And although this book does not contain traditional storytelling devices such as a plot, arc, character development, or antagonist, it is a captivating read for parents, children, and grandparents alike.
Balanced somewhere between a novel, picture book, and collection of poetry, "The boy the mole the fox and the horse" is best described as a series of bite-sized life lessons told through the playful undertakings of, as you may have inferred from the title, a boy, a mole, a fox, and a horse.
The title is not only an introduction to the book's characters, but also the first indicator of its tone: simple, straight-forward, and to the point. But do not let the clarity and bluntness...

You refer to me as your "dream catcher", but that's not what I am. I don't catch your dreams-- that's a job for your journal.
I'm here to collect your nightmares. 
Each night, I tirelessly filter and absorb all your dark thoughts from swirling around your mind as you sleep. Did you dream of burning at the stake last night? Being trapped in a room slowly filling with water? Or showing up to the airport naked? No? You're welcome.
I dream all the bad dreams so you don't have to. I let all your fears and shame flow through me. I experience all your hurt, and I never complain. 
I know I fill an important function, and it's a good feeling to know that my feathers and beads are being put to use; that I'm more than a hanging circle in front of your window to captivate your cats.
Still, I wish I knew what you were actually dreaming about. Night...

Vemod is the feeling you get the day after Christmas. It's the emotion you experience on the last day of summer vacation. We have all felt vemod before. And if you'd never experienced it before, then you definitely have this year. 

Vemod is sadness for things that have passed. It could be described as melancholic nostalgia, but it doesn't have to be tinged with joy the way that nostalgia is. In fact, it usually isn't. It isn't showy or loud. Vemod is not the pang of sadness you feel when you smell your grandmother's perfume; It won't result in sobs or screams. But vemod won't bring smiles and laughter either. Rather, vemod is a momentary sadness that can tinge a moment unexpectedly. 

Vemod is looking back on something that has happened and feeling sad that it is over and that you can't go back. It is that grief and longing that comes when you close a chapter in your life...

My parents have made sure all my first days of school have been the same. 
First, there's the family breakfast: eggs, bacon, yogurt, toast, and all the classic breakfast foods are prepared. We enjoy them as a family, even though I'm usually so nervous I have trouble enjoying my meal. 
Then there's the outfit. It's carefully selected the week before to represent my interests, my personality, my strengths, and every positivite facet of myself. It's the perfect balance between laid-back and put together. It's smart but cool. It's feminine but not childish. It's not oversized but not fitted. It's a lot of pressure on one T-shirt and pair of jeans. 
To top it all of is the picture: the classically posed "smiling girl with backpack" photo in front of the front door before I head out.
This year was exactly the same: same big American breakfast, same stressful choosing of outfit, same photo of me outside the front door. The...

The water hits my face in a cool splash. Over the summer, the cold was a pleasant reprieve from the Texas heat, but now the fact that my faucet refuses to produce warm water before noon feels like a punishment.
With my eyes closed, I pump a squirt of face wash out of the bottle and lather it onto my face. I read somewhere that you should do this for 1 to 2 minutes so I scrub my face for what may seem like an unnecessarily long time. I allow the soft tips of my fingers to run across my soapy skin, rubbing it in gentle small circles. I try not to wince when my fingers run over an inflamed zit.
I rinse off my face and pat it dry. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. The girl in front of me looks different than she used to. The cold water makes her pale skin red, and her...

It feels like we're doing one of those ridiculous tornado drills, except it's not a drill.
We're under the desks. The atmosphere in the room is somewhere between shock and terror. The three gunshots that rang out minutes ago ricochet around my head. The door creaks open, and I squeeze my eyes shut. 
This can't be happening. I'm about to die.
There is a sound of boots walking across linoleum floors.
Who would do this? I have to look. I open one eye cautiously and my heart leaps up to my throat.
I know those boots; they're my brother's.

But what about mental health?

Will this end by my birthday?
What about our trip to Italy?
Can I go to the movies again soon?
Will this end before summer?
Am I at least allowed to meet my friends outside?
Where should we order in from for my birthday?
Will this end by Thanksgiving?
Can we celebrate Christmas with grandma?
How can we make this feel like Christmas if we're alone?
Will this end in 2020?
When can I go back to school?
How much longer can we keep this up?
Will this end?
 

nourishment was
an unexpected compliment
my parents' praise
getting my 5k time down
a smile from a stranger
A-pluses
going down a dress size
winning

nourishment is
an unexpectedly sunny day
card games with my parents
discovering i can do a handstand
laughing until my stomach hurts
aha-moments
birthday cake
love








 

nourishment was
an unexpected compliment
my parents' praise
running a minute faster than last time
a smile from a stranger
A-pluses
going down a dress size
winning

nourishment is
an unexpectedly sunny day
card games with my parents
discovering i can do a handstand
laughing until my stomach hurts
having a new idea
my favorite meal
love








 

Dear 2020,

I think it's time for us to end things.
You haven't been good to me, and I think we both know it. I don't want to break your heart, but I need to get these things off my chest for closure. I need to tell you the ways you hurt me before I say goodbye to you forever.
At the beginning, 2020, I thought you were perfect for me. In January, when we were in our honeymoon phase, I thought we would be making snowmen and drinking hot chocolate all year long. You lured me in with false promises of fresh starts and new decades and new year's resolutions. In February, you showered me with hearts and good weather and long weekends. In March, you let me go to parties and travel to France and Italy. You promised me that together we could achieve all my dreams. And, with foolish optimism, I believed you.
But our relationship quickly...