Happy New Year

As I stand on the edge of this brand-new year, I find myself overwhelmed by a beautiful sense of possibility. Looking back on 2025, I’m filled with so much gratitude for the moments that challenged me, the laughter that kept me going, and the quiet growth that happened when I wasn’t even looking. Whether my year felt like a whirlwind of excitement or a steady, quiet climb, I’m taking a moment to be proud of simply making it here, and I hope you are doing the same.

As I step into 2026, my wish for both of us is simple: I hope our days are filled with more “real” moments and fewer “busy” ones. I want to find the courage to chase the things that make my heart beat a little faster, the patience to be kind to myself on the hard days, and the joy that comes from the smallest, simplest things. To me, this new year isn’t about “fixing” who I am; it’s about celebrating the person I’ve become and embracing the adventures that haven’t even started yet.

Thank you for being such a special part of my journey. I’m so excited to share this next chapter with you. Here’s to a year of health, happiness, and beautiful new beginnings for us all.

Happy New Year!

Much love,
Jennifer ❤️


I’m right here

The holidays are supposed to sparkle. They’re wrapped in lights and music and expectations that say this should be the happiest time of the year. But for so many people, this season feels heavier instead of brighter.

Grief gets louder. Loneliness settles in. Old memories knock when you’re already tired. Mental health doesn’t take a holiday break just because the calendar says it’s time to celebrate.

If this season feels harder for you, I want you to know something simple and true: I’m here if you need me.

I’m here on the days when getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment.
I’m here when the silence is too loud or the noise is too much. I’m here when you don’t have the words, or when you have too many and don’t know where to put them.

You don’t have to explain why you’re struggling. You don’t have to compare your pain to anyone else’s. And you definitely don’t have to pretend you’re okay just to make others more comfortable.

Sometimes being “here” looks like a conversation. Sometimes it looks like sitting quietly beside someone. Sometimes it’s a text that just says, “I’m thinking of you.”

And if you’re the one reading this thinking, I wish someone would say that to me this is me saying it. You matter. Your feelings matter. Your presence in this world matters, even on days when it doesn’t feel like it.

The holidays can amplify everything we try to tuck away the rest of the year. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

So if you need a safe place to land, I’m here. If you need someone to listen, I’m here. If all you can do today is survive, that is more than enough and I’m still here.

You don’t have to carry this season alone. Email me, text me, call me. If you need that information, head over to my about me page 🤍

Love,
Jennifer ❤️

Absence

I miss you in the quiet moments
when the world slows
just enough
for your absence to echo
I miss your laugh
tucked between my thoughts
your voice folded into the silence
like a secret waiting to be told
the days stretch long
without your light
and even the sun
seems unsure of where to shine
but I carry your memory
like a song I hum
without meaning to
soft and familiar
aching and true

Human (audio)

I carry the people I’ve loved like small constellations under my skin, some still burning, some already gone dark, yet all of them shaping how I walk through night.

There are mornings when grief doesn’t knock. It simply sits beside me, drinks my coffee, and reminds me that love was never meant to be light.

I have learned that the heart is not a place of safety. It is a place of weather. Storms arrive without permission, and sometimes the bravest thing is to stand still and let the storms pass through you.

If you listen closely, you can hear the past breathing in old songs, in the way certain names still soften your voice, in the silence that follows when you almost say I miss you out loud.

But even here, especially here, there is a quiet miracle happening.

Because every day you wake up with tenderness intact. You choose not to turn to stone. You keep your hands open in a world that has proven it can take everything.

And that, that is not weakness. That is devotion to being human all the way through.




Unpromised

we move through hours 
that were never promised
soft tenants of a world 
that keeps no names
each breath is an ember of light
slipped into our unready hands
dawn on loan, shadows rented
still we press our footsteps into dust
still we dare to lift our fragile flame
as if the dark were negotiable
as if borrowed time 
were ours to spend
and if the sun won’t one day
ask for everything back

Ordinary

daydreaming is the art
of slipping quietly
through the cracks of the ordinary
a soft surrender
against the ticking clock
the mind drifts 
painting sunlight 
on impossible skies
letting clouds speak 
in forgotten languages
somewhere between 
breath and blur
the world loosens its grip
and for a moment
everything that could be
is almost real enough to touch

Seasons change

I miss you
in the quiet moments
no one else can see
folded into morning light
and woven through
the hush between words

the world spins
but I feel your absence 
like a thread
tugging at the edges of my day
fragile yet constant
a quiet ache that never quite fades

I miss you in the way
the light hits the window
the way the air shifts
when the seasons change
and I am reminded
time moves but you still live 
in the corners of my heart

Smile

a smile is a curve
gentle as dawn’s first light
silent as a whisper
yet loud enough
to stir the heart
it doesn’t ask for anything
yet gives without measure
a flicker of warmth
in the coldest of moments
a bridge between souls
a quiet conversation
with no words
sometimes
it’s all we need
to breathe again
to feel less alone
and to remember
we are all here together
in this brief shared moment


Awaken

* Picture is my own *

morning gathers gently
on the curve of white petals
dew clings like secrets
whispered in the hush of dawn

each droplet holds the sky
a fragile universe 
dissolving in the sun
yet for this moment
it belongs only to the petal
to the hush of early light
to the beauty that asks for nothing
but to be seen