Years pass, and solutions fall through our hands like water. It’s hard to find a room at the right price and for the right time span. She got on the waiting list for senior subsidized housing, but then they started renovations and the spaces evaporated into a heart-knotting “eventually.” There’s only so much pleading you can do — to your family, to the sky — before everyone settles into this new normal. Before she finds comfort in knowing the beats of movement at every rest stop in a 50-mile radius, wearing that knowledge like a badge of honor. Before the makeshift bed in the back of her van feels a little like home. Before I start to trust that she’s OK when she tells me to stop worrying. You can rail against anything as much as you want; sometimes, eventually, you get tired of railing.
My mother’s “situation” is unacceptable — to her, to me, to our family, just in general. She needs a roof. She needs access to a shower and a kitchen and a reliable heating system. She needs, ideally, a home to feel like herself in. But it turns out it’s easier than you’d think to accept the unacceptable. You push the bad thing to the periphery and learn to live with it inevitably creeping back into your line of vision, the fact of it obscuring all the rest.
As the rays of our radiant orb reach the terminator (the line dividing day from night at any one moment) they hit the world at a glancing angle, only to be revealed by the groundmist rising from the lakes dotting the woodland. The mist rises because water holds its heat better than air, so during the night the air cools faster, and the water starts to evaporate into the colder atmosphere. Many waterways see this phenomenon regularly. I can tell in my village in southern France from the time the valley filling fog burns off how nice and sunny the day will be. The later the better, if it’s still foggy at 11 am then the rest of the day is guaranteed gorgeous.
Image credit: Sven Zacek/ GDT European Wildlife Photographer of the Year
These two pictures are the first ever full body photos that I’ve posted to any type of social media. For the longest time, I’ve been nothing but ashamed of my body. I couldn’t stand the sight of myself and I avoided mirrors like the plague. I always dressed in baggy clothes in an effort to hide it because I didn’t want to burden people with the sight of my body. I don’t know exactly when my shame started evaporating but I remember a couple weeks ago, looking at myself one morning in the mirror, in nothing but my underwear, and not recoiling in disgust.
I’m not completely in love with my body yet but I’m slowly getting there and this is a big step forward for me. And to all my big girls out there who feel like I did: You are worthy.