I’ve been thinking about power this week.Not the kind that comes with titles or degrees or corner offices. Not the kind that lets you decide budgets or policies or who gets promoted. A quieter kind of power. The kind almost all of us carry without realizing it. The power to shape the story another person

Today was the first day of Young Writers Camp. Nearly eighty kids showed up on a rainy Pittsburgh morning carrying backpacks, water bottles, and nervous energy. Some found each other immediately. A conversation about K-Pop somehow turned into a conversation about squirrels. I couldn’t follow either topic, which felt like a reminder that I am

Cedar Point, OhioThe music felt loud.Not louder. Just loud. I was driving our RV from Sandusky, Ohio to South Haven, Michigan when I noticed it. Two hours earlier, the exact same playlist had sounded fine. Now every song felt one click too high. I shifted in my seat and tried to get comfortable. My lower

On Monday morning, my body hurt.Not in a concerning way. More in the way your body hurts after you’ve spent an entire weekend convinced you’re twenty-five and capable of moving mountains.I stood in the kitchen holding my coffee and looking out at the backyard. The new flowers were planted. The bird bath was in place.