Dear 19 year old Veronica,
Hi. It’s 21 year old you. You are now officially the age to be able to step foot in a bar in America (you did this past Christmas when you visited family and friends). I am writing this to tell you that you are strong. Continue reading “Letter to the 19 Year Old That Arrived in France”
Give me 6-12 months in a new town or city, my mind will start to think about the next city to live in. It is a habit, something I cannot help. I noticed it the last move, between Oregon and Indiana. I absolutely adored the suburb I lived in outside of Portland, the friends I had made and the high school I went to (my teachers made going to school worthwhile). Then when we arrived to Indiana, I cried for months. Why had I agreed to move when I loved home so much?
Continue reading “A Beautiful Mess”
On the wind, ‘cross the sea, / Hear this song and remember… Soon you’ll be home with me / Once upon a December.
We used to chant growing up, “together in Paris!”
Here we are, 16 years later, never actually knowing that we would be living together… in Paris.
Continue reading “Red Lips, Black Heels”
Ever since I was little, I was always told that I was big. My family always commented on my body and on how much weight I needed to lose. I went to Spain one summer by myself at the age of 10 and I remember people commenting on the fact that I had lost weight by the end of my stay. I was too aware of my body from such a young age, something that lead to a secret anxiety about it. Shopping was horrendous and I would always end up crying on my mother’s shoulders, another person who highly regrets commenting so much on my body as much as everyone else did. I look back on pictures now and I was never big. My body just physically grew up fast.
Continue reading “Becoming a Woman”
It’s Thursday, yay!
If we were having coffee, I would probably have ordered (or made, depending on where we decided to chat) a hot chocolate instead. Lately, I am coffeed out (yes, I know coffeed is not a word but that is what my mother says when she can’t stand coffee for a while and needs a break). Continue reading “If We Were Having Coffee (Or Hot Chocolate?)”