Author Archives: dainsworth

Hi. Me again. I wish I could say I woke up this morning hungover from the revelries of New Year’s Eve celebrations, but I was in bed by 10 last night. Instead, I woke up with what Brene Brown refers to as a “vulnerability hangover.” Last night was the first time, perhaps since I wasContinue reading “19. 2021”

December 25. Christmas Morning.  I get up early to start breakfast. I make my daughter her favorite hot chocolate- lactose-free milk topped with fresh-made whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon and nutmeg. I want it to look picturesque and abundant, as though I might cram all my best intentions and care-worn love into thatContinue reading “18. The Bleak Midwinter”

When I was nearly four, our home burned to the ground. It is one of my earliest memories. We were at church when my uncle appeared to tell us the news. Red-faced and sweaty in his denim overalls, he made his way up the aisle, a stark contrast to the congregants clad in their SundayContinue reading “17. Home”

I realize my writing has been sporadic the past few weeks. I returned to the full force of life… in all its glory… and my attention has been pulled in many directions.  We returned to Charlottesville last week. I stayed with friends and my daughter returned to my mom’s, where she is better set upContinue reading “16. Joy”

PART I Because a storm sweeps across the island on the day I am meant to leave, my departure is delayed. I spend two days perched on the edge of whatever must come next. Two days of bluster and white-capped seas and the whole world holding its breath to the count of electoral votes. OnContinue reading “15. Life Can Be Beautiful”

I would like to know the deep of the island winter. I would like to see the frost cold stars unyielding to the light of the land, the wild boughs of blood-red bittersweet caught in the fury of verglas. I would like to see the coruscating mustard of the goldenrod dim, the whorled aster and jewelweed laid to rest. But it is not my time.

My earliest memories used to be close to me, the jumble of them kept around like a lucky coin I could touch when I needed to know the truth of things. But then my head became full of more important things, like keeping another human alive or not ending up in the news for sayingContinue reading “13. Bended Knee”

As a teenager, I loved to sleep in on Saturday mornings. Invariably, I would be woken by the loud and disjointed sounds of my mother in the kitchen, by her laughter as she spoke on the phone, by drawers closing, and cupboards slamming, and pans banging. I. Hated. It. I would lie in bed fumingContinue reading “12. Waffles”

Ok… Maine is beautiful. I’m not sure why I’ve never traveled here before, but I will definitely travel here again. I was a bit of a mess in the days leading up to my departure. There were so many moving pieces to coordinate. But mostly, it was the idea of leaving my girl for fourContinue reading “11. Monhegan Island”

“Healing does not mean forgiveness either, though it is a result of it. Healing is knowing our woundedness; it is developing an intimacy with the ways in which we suffer.” -Lama Rod Owens I always believed that forgiveness was the first step toward healing. I was wrong. When we were young, we were made toContinue reading “10. Healing”