My favorite place on earth (photo by Kate) • sprawling tulip fields • whimsical portland landscaping • yeah that's the diner from riverdale • my sweet Canadian chicken friends • forget me nots • bookstore lattes • best buddies • backstage adventures at my sister's cool job • everyone's favorite giant mouth • more mountains • a suspiciously beautiful bonfire • even more mountains + ocean • my sister experiencing portland • the best views in the world • and more mountains and more flowers etc etc forever lather rinse repeat ok see you in a few months when I remember to post again.
Do more nerdy shit with your besties ✌️
(not pictured: @aleikats and allllll the dumplings and noodles we shoved in our mouths in a catatonic state afterwards♥️)
My grandmother was a powerhouse of a woman in a tiny body. A true matriarch; a force to be reckoned with in a fur hat and work boots and always with a spaniel at her side.
I inherited a lot from her: her stubbornness, her refusal to ask for help, her bad habit of thinking that the water used to make coffee counts as hydration. Also her persistence, her independence, and her love of her family.
If we were childhood friends you probably experienced her influence. Maybe you sat alongside me in the back seat of her farm truck or attended one of my birthday parties in her rental property with a hot tub that felt like such a luxury at the time. Maybe you went to visit the Sugar Shack and spoke with her yourself and put a star on her map, walked the maple tour, or said hello to the dolls in the mailbox. You probably saw her showing up for me at concerts and sporting events and art shows. If you ever stayed the night at my house it was definitely her syrup we had on our morning breakfast, every time.
If you met me in adulthood you knew her too, in a way. She was a great storyteller and a great storyteller is easy to tell great stories about. I always love entertaining people with tales of her wilder adventures.
It's both easier and harder to know that death is coming. Having the priviledge to call and speak to someone, while also knowing each time that that could be your last. I've been collecting memories to hold on to to keep me warm against the inevitable cold and chill of grief and loss.
I remember her bouncing me on her knee as a child, showing me the way the gentlemen and the farmers ride a horse and pretending to drop me as I squealed with laughter and begged her to do it again.
I remember her loading my sister and I into her little red smart car and taking us to buy school clothes at the 'pink mall' every year. We'd get to throw a wishing penny in the fountain and we'd always eat at Texas Roadhouse and throw our peanut shells on the floor.
I remember her laugh, loud and unapologetic and wild as the rest of her. (1/4 Continued in comments)
Pumpkins and apples and go bills and beach fires and Halloween hangs and nostalgia slowly suffocating me and leaves changing and friends and friends and friends and a couple of rainbows to round out October
Wildflower fields, Kya who hates car rides and her emotional support Korra, world's quickest NYC stop, in-flight entertainment, go bills, dinosaurs!?, more flowers, iced drinks, dry iced drinks, shenanigans in a haunted mansion, still more flowers, severely underestimating the teenage boys at the kpop demon hunters singalong who ended up knowing all of the choreo, gorges, grapes, graffiti, even more flowers, a misplaced peacock, a rest stop adventure, and words I'm trying to take to heart. August.
