Monica: It's Christmas Eve and we both spent a lot of time on the phone, catching up with family. It will be a quiet Christmas this year; the two of us in an empty house, staying warm by the fire. Even though I can't be with my family, I am still so grateful for all of this: for him, for my family & friends, for everyone's health, for the new job, and for the time we got to live in this little slice of California heaven.
Evelyn: The morning hours in my mother's garden are calm and colorful. My body doesn't quite know what time it is, and part of me is confused by the gently emerging sunlight when Florida is already seeing a late-morning haze. Going through my mom's yard, I am drawn to tiny forgotten accents—probably placed unexpectedly or covered by vines and nick-knacks—that feel like small hide-'n-seek treasures: an aging clothespin, a rusted iron candle holder, dead morning glory vines and a frozen statue of a red bird, all between warm sunlight and greenery.
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