Slow Mornings
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The Breakfast Pizza That Reminds Me of Mom
This morning, I found myself craving something very specific: old school cafeteria breakfast pizza. It’s simple really. A soft crust, a layer of sauce, sausage crumbles, and melted cheese. Nothing fancy and nothing complicated. But for me, it carries the weight of memory, of childhood mornings, of my mom. She worked in the school cafeteria Continue reading
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The Weight We Carry: Learning to Rest Before We Break
I’ve spent years carrying weight that wasn’t mine—stress, expectations, unspoken grief, the silent demands of a world that never stops moving. I’ve pushed through exhaustion, convinced that rest was something to be earned rather than something I inherently deserved. But last night, as I lay on the massage table, feeling the deep pressure of hands Continue reading
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Slow Mornings: A Quiet Ritual of Solitude and Reflection
There’s a certain stillness I’ve come to cherish in the early hours of the morning, a time when the world feels paused, and I can exist solely with my thoughts. These slow mornings, spent in the quiet company of Chewy, my little dachshund, have become a vital part of my day. It’s during these precious Continue reading
The Dreamer's Pen 