Poetry: hi, mom

he climbs tall swaying trees
all the way to the top. i eat
handfuls of unsalted almonds
with bites of banana while reading
book after book. sun-kissed, my
toes press into the soft green
grass. freckled shoulders out. “hi 
mom,” he calls. i wave back
all smiles. my naive trust
easily covers fear. i lean into

full moons, rainbow wishes, fairy
protectors. i believe my love
will shield him from harm. but
it doesn’t. once. and then twice.
i drink sugary coffee in hospital
rooms while staring at tiny bright
screens. shoulders slumped. “hi
mom,” he calls beneath many
bloody bandages. with a fake
smile i tell him everything will

be okay. home. darkness. healing
comes. i sneak candy nightly
hoping it will shrink fear. it 
doesn’t. my body swells. aches. 
i pull away from everyone. hiding
panic with manic activity. secretly
building giant blame barriers. “hi
mom,” he calls but i don’t hear
him. i don’t want to. walls protect
right? but i am lonely in my padded

cell. sunshine bursts through swaying
trees. they miss him too. but fear
stopped the climbing. we circle
each other arguing. forgetting nose
kisses but not bloody faces. time
moves so fast. too fast. his blue cap 
and gown sits on my dresser. “hi
mom,” he says. i listen. we eat
seedy crackers while our shoulders
touch. can trust regrow after fear?


Note: I’m attempting to use poetry as part of my healing process. I will return to short stories and the Shoebox Poetry series soon. Thank you for reading and supporting me during this transition time. It’s long overdue.

52 Photo Challenge: Week 15-Series

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
Winter is dead.” —A.A. Milne

This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to create a series of images that went together. I do this every week and so I decided to try and tell a story with my images. My daughter and I went to a creek by our house and took a nice stroll together with our cameras.

The light was harsh and the animals scarce. I did get a few bird shots and one of a turtle, but nothing I could turn into a series. So, I walked along the trail and took pictures of the flowers for a bit. I started thinking about when we sprinkled my grandmother’s ashes in the Oregon mountains and how butterflies followed our truck. I sort of jokingly said, “Grandma, could you bring some butterflies my way. I can’t do just flowers.”

A few minutes later about a dozen butterflies arrived. I chased them around the field. The light was bad and I couldn’t get the shots I wanted, but I was in heaven. Chasing butterflies in a field of wildflowers is how to spend the day. I put the images in order from far away to close up. Let me know what you think and if you have a favorite.

Also, to everyone who commented on my last post, thank you. I’ve been overwhelmed by the love and support. It means the world to me.


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Bonus photos:


  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com

52 Photo Challenge
Week 1: Bokeh
Week 2: Silhouette
Week 3: Black and White
Week 4: Motion Blur
Week 5: Texture
Week 6: Framing
Week 7: Leading Lines
Week 8: Negative Space
Week 9: Patterns
Week 10: Symmetry
Week 11: Green
Week 12: Sidelight
Week 13: Sense of Scale
Week 14: One Lens

#100DayProject: Quitting

“When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready.”—Paulo Coelho

I’m quitting the #100DayProject.

It hurt to type that sentence. I don’t like quitting. When backed into a corner I usually double down on my efforts to prove all the shit my internal critic says about me is untrue. In fact, my plan for the week was to work my ass off catching up on everything.

But something happened.

I was reading a book in the early morning hours when I heard a terribly loud sound—a lot like a gunshot. It sounded like it came from upstairs where both my teenagers were sleeping.

My body went into complete panic mode.

“No, no, no…” I chanted as I ran up the stairs.

I threw open both their doors screaming, “Are you okay?”

They were fine.

I woke them up.

I scared them.

But they were fine.

After apologizing and reassuring myself nothing bad had happened, I went into the backyard and fell onto the ground sobbing. Hard. Harder than I have in years.

I started replaying the worst moments. The phone call. A woman found my son laying on the side of the road and called me from his cell phone to tell me he’d had a skateboard accident. The cop at our front door. He told us our son was hit by a car. He was holding his shoes. Yelling at my daughter for wearing a sweater in summer. I pulled up her sleeves to see her arms covered in cuts. The look on her face when she told me she didn’t want to be here anymore.

You are a bad mother.

You have made too many terrible mistakes.

It’s all your fault.

My body wouldn’t stop shaking. I could barely breathe.

I called my mom and told her what happened. I needed to say all my fears out loud. I needed to acknowledge the elephant sitting on my chest. I don’t want my kids to die. I feel like a failure. I don’t understand why this is our story. I’ve tried to be the best mom I could be.

I’m supposed to be watching the fruits of all my hard work pay off—proms, graduation, getting their driver’s license, first dates. Instead, it feels like one tragedy or obstacle after the next. Mountain after mountain. It’s all so horribly unfair.

She cried with me and said I’m the strongest person she knows. I didn’t want to listen, but I did. Eventually, I calmed down, but I was left knowing I had to face what I didn’t want to.

I’ve been living in a constant state of stress for many years. Too many. It’s been boiling under my skin like lava—hot, churning, angry.

A few weeks ago, facing the move of my mother out of state, the lava erupted in the form of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad rash. The doc gave me meds, but they didn’t work. It got worse. Much worse. I went on the trip anyway.

I tried to ignore it. It’s just a rash. I’m strong. I got this. My mother needs me. My daughter needs me. There’s simply no time for my nonsense.

But the rash got angrier and angrier.

I wanted to ignore it forever, but then the loud sound came. 

Maybe it was an internal gunshot or a car backfiring on the road behind our house (the road my son had his accidents). Whatever it was, it forced me to stop lying to myself. I’m not okay and I need to take better care of myself. 

Something has to change.

I got busy doing research and made the decision to cut out sugar, caffeine, and carbs—all things this rash needs to thrive (and I use to cope). I got different meds. I rode through the waves of migraines while sipping bone broth and taking naps. I oscillated between feeling like I’m doing the right thing and feeling selfish.

I didn’t feel strong.

I finally took the anxiety pills I’d been scared to take. I’m talking more openly with my family about my stress level. I’m not cooking for my family right now. I’m still taking naps.

It feels a bit like I’m doing nothing, but that’s not true. It’s important. I need to feel better.

I’m healing my skin, my gut, and my heart. I’ve got so many wonderful things to look forward to and I need to be my healthiest to enjoy them all. My teenagers may not look like the typical ones, but they are remarkable human beings. Extraordinary. They are the light of my life. They need me to stop simmering in the lava.

The reason I started this #100DayProject was to tackle my perfectionism and to think more abstractly. The guidelines I set for myself were:

  • be messy and imprecise
  • have fun with the process
  • don’t overthink
  • don’t plan
  • don’t judge the finished painting
  • be brave

Quitting fulfills these objectives quite nicely. It’s brave and messy. It’s not perfect. I can’t really plan what the future holds for me, but I’m taking the right steps to get healthy.

I’m proud of myself.

NOTE: I’m not quitting my blog, but I am taking some time to heal. I may be a bit less active for a few weeks as I start to feel better. Please don’t go anywhere. I appreciate you all so much.


52 Photo Challenge: Week 14-One Lens

“Behind the camera, I was invisible. When I lifted it up to my eye it was like I crawled into the lens, losing myself there. and everything else fell away.”—Sarah Dessen

This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to use one lens. I only have one and was originally going to try and modify the challenge by setting it at only 50mm. However, once on the trip, it felt like one too many things to worry about. Instead, I focused on capturing things I love—lichen, moss, and the dark greens of the Oregon and Washington coast. I spent time as a fairy sitting in the woods and as a romantic staring at the ocean waves.

The cemetery shots are from one of the oldest in Washington State, Oysterville Cemetery. The broken wagon, chuch, bible, and roof photo are from the Oregon ghost town of Golden. It was established in the early 1840s and some of its buildings were restored in the 1950s as film sets for the TV show “Bonanza” and a few Western movies.

Wouldn’t it be nice if every day could be filled with mossy adventure? Let me know what photo you like best and have a wonderful week.


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  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com

52 Photo Challenge
Week 1: Bokeh
Week 2: Silhouette
Week 3: Black and White
Week 4: Motion Blur
Week 5: Texture
Week 6: Framing
Week 7: Leading Lines
Week 8: Negative Space
Week 9: Patterns
Week 10: Symmetry
Week 11: Green
Week 12: Sidelight
Week 13: Sense of Scale

Travel: Historic Shelburne Hotel

“It is required of every man,” the ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death.”
—Charles Dickens, “A Christmas Carol”

After spending two nights in Astoria, Oregon we traveled to the beautiful and sleepy town of Seaview, Washington. We were lucky to get an attic room in the Shelburne Hotel which was built in 1896 and is the longest continuously operating hotel in Washington State. The big draw for me was the feeling of stepping back in time, but it was the rumors of ghosts that excited my daughter. Who doesn’t want a little adventure?

From the moment we parked our car and walked in the front door we felt welcome. The hotel is very LGBTQ-friendly and has a tremendously calm feeling. We arrived early and the staff encouraged us to explore the hotel while they finished cleaning our room. One employee showed us the secret library (swoon) and told us a bit about the local spirits—Georgina in the garden beside the large tree, the original caretaker Charles Beaver in the second-floor hallways, and a girl named Nina in the attic.

Now, before I go into the details of our possible ghost encounter, I want to share these photos taken with my iPhone 13 to give you a sense of the place. Almost all my photos are slightly crooked or off, which fits the mood perfectly.

All the stained glass was rumored to be repurposed from a church in Morecambe, England, that was being torn down and dates back to the 1800s.

The very creaky stairs up the attic.

Our bedroom. The little nook off to the left is where my daughter slept.

The hotel restaurant was divine. I particularly loved the wine and crème brûlée.

Now, here’s the part I’m a bit hesitant to share. You see, almost all of what happened can be explained away with logic. However, if you choose to believe in spirits…

After eating in the restaurant we retired to our attic room. We got into our pajamas and watched a few episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race before deciding it was time to rest. My daughter climbed into the little nook area and I sprawled across the bed. Before I went to sleep I said a prayer of protection and asked to be left alone. My daughter said she wanted to see a spirit and was open to an encounter. The bed was comfy and although we both heard some creaking on the stairs and a few bumps on the outside walls, I drifted to sleep fairly quickly.

I woke several times with an incredibly warm feeling against my back as if a dog or small person was curled up beside me. The room was cold but I was sweaty and uncomfortable. Each time it happened, I sat up and checked on my daughter and found her sleeping peacefully in the little nook. In retrospect, I should have been scared as I’m usually a complete baby about such things, but I wasn’t.

About the fourth time this happened, I whispered into the room.

“I need my rest.”

A few minutes later I felt a hand tap my left leg three times. It was comforting, which if you know me, is highly strange. I’m the type of person who jumps if someone comes into the room unannounced. I’ve been known to freak myself out and think someone was in the backseat of my van while driving home late at night and pull over at a gas station to check every inch of the back in the bright lights. I don’t even like scary movies, yet this touch on my leg felt natural and not at all scary.

At 3 a.m. I woke to my daughter softly calling my name. I sat up groggily and saw she was still in her nook but she looked strange.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know…”

She was terribly cold and shaking violently.

“My stomach hurts…”

She has a very sensitive stomach, particularly while traveling, and I figured maybe the rich dessert didn’t sit well with her. I didn’t want to tell her, but I started to get scared for the first time. The room felt different and I quickly turned on all the lights. Her skin was ice cold, her face pale, and she couldn’t stop shaking. At that moment I wanted to pack everything up and leave, but before I could say anything else she ran to the bathroom and threw up in the sink. Within a few minutes, she started to feel better and crawled into bed with me. The heat I’d been feeling on my back was gone, but so was the scary feeling that had arrived when she felt sick.

Unable to go back to sleep right away, we watched another episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race and then turned out the lights. I said another prayer of protection, including my daughter this time, and fell asleep fairly quickly. The warm feeling on my back didn’t return and I didn’t wake until I heard the call of a common starling outside the window in the morning.

My daughter woke up a few hours after me and told me what she saw right before falling asleep. A young girl was standing near the foot of the bed looking at her. She was wearing a white dress and had short black hair curled around her face. She didn’t say anything and her face didn’t show any emotion, but after seeing the girl she was able to sleep soundly.

The staff told us that sometimes things get moved around in the rooms, but we didn’t notice anything different in the morning. I showered and we had delicious coffee and tea in the lobby. We wrote down our story in a journal kept behind the front counter and left. We talked about our experience and could explain all of it away. It wasn’t until arriving at our next hotel we thought perhaps we did experience something supernatural. Digging through my bag to get my swimming suit for the hot tub I found this:

One of the first things my daughter said when we walked into the attic bathroom was, “Look at this cute makeup towel!” My bag was never in the bathroom and we didn’t take the towel off its hook. Maybe, just maybe, Nina gave it to us as a souvenir or perhaps an apology for my daughter getting sick. Regardless of how it came to be at the bottom of my bag, I’ll be mailing it back. We won’t soon forget our night at the Shelburne Hotel.

Thanks for reading and let me know if you’ve had any experiences like this. I’d love to hear it!


Note: To my regular readers, I’m back home now and will return to writing poetry and short stories soon. I’m also terribly behind in reading all your beautiful blog posts and hope to get caught up this week. Be ready for a batch of comments on your blogs soon!

Photography: Astoria, Oregon

“It’s OK, you’re a Goonie, and Goonies always make mistakes.”

When I was a small child I’d always watch “The Goonies” when I was sick or sad. It was my comfort movie and I can practically recite it for you word for word. This week I moved my mom from northern California to a small town in Washington very near Astoria, Oregon. When I found out it’s the home to several filming locations for “The Goonies” it felt right. I’m sad and I need my comfort movie.

After taking two days to drive here and get my mom settled in her new place, we spent the day exploring all the filming locations around the area. We had deep conversations about our connection and my mom told me she was proud of me. It feels like a big moment in my life. We always want our mom, but she needs to do this for her.

“Don’t you realize? The next time you see the sky, it’ll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it’ll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what’s right for them. Because it’s their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it’s our time. It’s our time down here.”
—Mikey, The Goonies


The jailhouse from the opening scene. It’s now a museum filled with artifacts from the film.

I was just a wee bit excited! “Out in the garage, ORV, four-wheel drive… …bullet holes the size of matzo balls!”—Chunk

Chester Copperfield’s wallet, the skeleton key, doubloon, and a Lou Gehrig baseball card.

They had Data’s complete outfit including his pinchers of power! Data is played by Ke Huy Qua who just won an Oscar for my new favorite movie “Everything Everywhere All at Once.”

“Yo. Hi guys. How’s it going? This is Willie… One-Eyed Willie. Say hi, Willie. Those are my friends… the Goonies.”—Mikey

“Goonies never say die!” The actual house. It was less than a minute from our hotel.

This is the window at the beginning of the film where Chunk presses his pizza and milkshake against the glass to watch the police chase the Fratellis.

The building is now a bowling alley and was closed but we all took turns reenacting it on the outside. Isn’t my mom cute?

This coffee shop is featured during the opening scene when Rosalita is crossing the street.

The Flavel House Museum is where Mikey’s dad waves to the kids when they are riding through town on their bikes.

It’s an interesting and slightly creepy house. My daughter did some research after we left and found out they left out some big parts of the family history.

What a thrill to stand here.

Beautiful beach. Not sure if those are the rocks that lined up with the doubloon, but I choose to believe they are.

My daughter and mom.

After our Goonies exploring we visited two spots my mom loves.

Flying together down the path in the wild winds.

  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW

52 Photo Challenge: Week 13-Sense of Scale

“Anything is grand if it’s done on a large enough scale.”
—Donna Tartt, The Secret History

This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to capture a sense of scale. After finding an old photo of my dad in a rice field for my Shoebox Poetry series, I wanted to take photos of my daughter in a field. I figured it would do two things—show a sense of scale and give us a chance to recreate the image.

We found a field near my sister-in-law’s house filled with bright yellow flowers. It was muddy and a bit difficult, but I’m extremely happy with these photos. I hope you like them too! The rest of the photos were taken driving around looking for cranes. We found a few, but they were never quite in the right position. The clouds ended up being the star of the day. Let me know which of these best fits the assignment or if you have a favorite. Have a wonderful week!

Note: These photos were taken last Thursday. I’m currently on an emotional trip moving my mother to Washington state. I’ll post more about it later this week.


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  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com

52 Photo Challenge
Week 1: Bokeh
Week 2: Silhouette
Week 3: Black and White
Week 4: Motion Blur
Week 5: Texture
Week 6: Framing
Week 7: Leading Lines
Week 8: Negative Space
Week 9: Patterns
Week 10: Symmetry
Week 11: Green
Week 12: Sidelight

Shoebox Poetry: The Field

what if the calling crows think you are
a makeshift scarecrow built for chasing
them away from their dreams? will they
peck at you with sharp beaks so far from
my grasp? will I be able to run fast enough
to save you? the shifting rice tells me
to take a deep breath. this isn’t a cornfield
and the cranes won’t hurt you. but grey
skies mean trouble so run to me anyway
my boy. mother needs you in her arms.


Shoebox Poetry: This is the fourth poem in my series based on an old box of photos I inherited when my grandmother died in 2004. The back of this photo reads “Gary in rice field Nov ’53.” It’s a photo of my dad, but it made me think of my own boy. He turned 18 in December and is finishing high school in a few months. This poem poured out instantly along with some tears. I guess I have some feelings.

Here are the other poems in the series if you missed them:

#100DayProject: Watercolors-Week 5

“The first mistake of art is to assume that it’s serious.”—Lester Bangs

Welcome to the fifth week of my #100DayProject. While last week my focus was on happiness and light, this week it has shifted to mistakes. The first two paintings of the week were such a mess I started to wonder why I’m even doing this. My inner critic grew fangs and I became insecure and super wobbly. I dramatically announced to my family that I was quitting painting because “I suck” and “it’s too hard.” My family said nothing, wisely, and I eventually sent myself to my room and reread the guidelines I wrote down in week one:

  • be messy and imprecise
  • have fun with the process
  • don’t overthink
  • don’t plan
  • don’t judge the finished painting
  • be brave

With these points in mind, I tried again. With the exception of the flowers, these are all outside my comfort zone. They are messy and a bit strange, but oddly I found myself relaxing more in the mess. I wonder where letting myself live in this jumbled mistake zone will lead me? I’ve got nine more weeks to find out. Let me know if you have a favorite painting or haiku and thanks for sticking with me as I figure out how to take myself less seriously.


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under the big top
spring carnival awakes
can you hear its call?

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pitter pat splatter
colorful little clatter
what does it matter?

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fingertip dancing
fuzzy family photo
dressed in regal green

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messy self-portrait
hiding blue moon memories
tomorrow brings sun

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tulips reaching high
calling out your sacred name
remember—be brave


52 Photo Challenge: Week 12-Sidelight

“She knew that this silent, motionless portal opened into the street; if the sidelights had not been filled with green paper, she might have looked out on the little brown stoop and the well-worn brick pavement. But she had no wish to look out, for this would have interfered with her theory that there was a strange, unseen place on the other side—a place which became, to the child’s imagination, according to its different moods, a region of delight or terror.”-Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady

This week my assignment for the 52 photo challenge was to capture sidelight. After looking online for several days at examples of this concept, I decided I wanted to try my hand at artsy portrait shots. My daughter generously agreed to be my model and we spent a delightful afternoon playing with light.

The majority of the shots were taken in our green bathroom using a flashlight and a gold reflector, but a few were taken using the natural light of our front window. Although these photos are very different than my normal ones, I love them. Not only do they showcase the beauty of my gorgeous daughter, but they forever will be a reminder of our time together.

I’ve written a lot about her struggles, but not nearly enough about how lucky I am to have this time with her. We spend our days orbiting around each other and it’s a treasure I didn’t know I’d have at this time in my life. While everything isn’t always easy, loving her is. She gave me permission to share these photos and I hope you enjoy them as much as we do.

Let me know if you have a favorite and have a wonderful week!


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  • Photos were taken with an Olympus OM-D and edited with ON1 Photo RAW
  • If you want to join the 52 Photo Challenge, you can find all the information at nicolesy.com

52 Photo Challenge
Week 1: Bokeh
Week 2: Silhouette
Week 3: Black and White
Week 4: Motion Blur
Week 5: Texture
Week 6: Framing
Week 7: Leading Lines
Week 8: Negative Space
Week 9: Patterns
Week 10: Symmetry
Week 11: Green