I’m that girl.

I’m that girl.  I’m that girl who forgets to text you back at 1 PM because my kids are screaming and I can’t think straight. You’ll more than likely hear from me around 4 AM these days. But it’s fine, because I am eventually going to get back to you. Hopefully we both still remember what...

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Hope in faded pink.

To any woman picking this box up to stare at it in longing, in mourning, in hesitation. To wonder. To wish. To throw it in her shopping cart again this month.  Throwing it in with hope. With fear. With premature excitement. With anticipation. With a sense of dread that it may just be another...

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