On re-entering dating after eighteen years. What I've learned. What still terrifies me. I went on my first date in eighteen years. I want to let that land for a second. Eighteen years. The last time I went on a first date, smartphones did not exist the way they exist now. Dating apps were not the primary mechanism. There was no algorithm deciding who you might want to spend time with based on a set of preferences you selected on a Tuesday afternoon while eating lunch. I came

The diagnosis. The pill. The Philadelphia chromosome. What it took and what it gave back.

On being present at the end of three lives — and why it changed everything I make.

Everything here is real. I promise. I’ll tell you who I am when the time is right. Every single word. I promise. ❤️ Until then: everything I write here, I mean. When the time is right — and it will be — I will step forward fully. I will tell you my name. I will show you my face. I will connect every word here to the person who wrote it, and I think when that moment comes it will make sense in a way that might actually be more meaningful than if I had simply introduced myself

If you found this place, I think you were supposed to. That is not a marketing line. I don't say it to make you feel special in the hollow way the internet sometimes tries to make you feel special. I say it because of the specific kind of person who tends to find her way here — and because I have learned, in the last few years, to trust that the right things arrive at the right time. This is Poppy & Evergreen. It is named for my two children —the reason I do all of it and the