One Letter

 May 24, 2026

I wrote a bit today. I played in the garden for awhile and I cleaned some algae off of a lily pad. I had to force myself to stop working on the ponds. You see, every time I dipped the clippers into the water, it got tangled up with the toad eggs. You’ll remember this for sure. 

Frog eggs are tangled pearls, globs  of eggs all sticking together all at once.

Toad eggs are a string of pearls. Long strings of eggs, laid in a straightish line hidden between  rocks, and plants.  

That was fun. My ponds are my world. I feel grounded there, I feel safe. - I’m only starting to let my guard down. I discovered this week, that I have friends. I told you this before, l am 50 years old and I’ve been running and hiding for over 25 years. This is the first time I’ve ever had friends. It’s surreal and a little scary. I bought a game called, “You Laugh or Your Out.” I’m looking forward bringing it to Game Day Sunday! 

Yeah, this is  new for me too. Haha. Okay, so let’s set some rules for “Letters.”

 This should be, an almost nightly thing. Let’s give it a  go! Write one new post, include a screenshot of a text. Okay, this is the last part, You can use any texts you sent out from three days.. 📆 

We should also mention that you should also include a little written piece. Write about your day, write about your week. Write something.. 

And, Don’t forget the text! 

Uhm.Truth be told, I don’t think my family will respond do the text. They rarely do. I just keep making up excuses on why they don’t like me. Okay! It’s 11pm in New York.  We have to see how this plays out.

 I’ll try to let you know tomorrow. 

Okay World, I’m at the end of my post and I can’t give up yet. I keep living and my story keeps writing. I’ve learned to leach onto hope and look out for the bad times. Keeping moving forward and always look out for something. Look forward to something. Look for positivity. Look for a happening. Kerri Lyn, Just keep going. 

My body keeps failing, and I keep fighting.. just keep going. You got this. Find hope and look for beauty. There are good thin happenings. Jim is in my world again. I am grateful. I have a house that I love, on a good street. I am in love with my light and I have friends. My ponds sustain me, planting grounds me. Maybe, I think I’m done running. Maybe, I can stop now. Saying that makes my stomach hurt. I should slow down. I mean, I should go slow.   (I can’t say the words that are supposed to be here.)   When, opening up to people. and just being instead.

Okay. So here. That’s today’s post.  

One more thing, Put on your listening ears - 

You can do hard things. 

Text sent at 9:30pm on Sunday May 24th 2026. 

I hope this doesn’t wake anybody up but STOP EVERYTHING.

I have discovered the greatest vegan ice cream flavor known to mankind. 

It’s Lemony! 

It’s Punchy! 

It’s Coconuty!

Oh! But is it good? YES! The lemon curd! The coconut cream!  It’s like a tropical dream! 😴 🌴

Ladies and gentlemen…

The stunning.

The spectacular.

The dangerously delicious…

The flavor is.. 

🍋 Lemon Bar 🍋

by Jenni’s.

That is all. Carry on.

Dear..

 Dear Christopher, 

I think I found it. 

Maybe now, we can start living again. 

Always, 

- me

Computer Generated

 I am equal parts wildflower meadow and internet chaos. I split my life between Austin and Harlem like some kind of feral fairy with Wi-Fi, collecting strange stories, thrift store treasures, and enough plants to make my yard look like Mother Nature filed a hostile takeover. I have three ponds, mosquito fish, bees that treat me like staff, and the kind of relationship with dragonflies that sounds made up until you see it.

I’m a little awkward, a lot dorky, and fully committed to being the person who will absolutely stop mid-conversation to point out a cool bird, a weird bug, or a plant I’m emotionally attached to. I love social justice, old hacker lore, board games, soft things, sharp words, and the very specific chaos of trying to turn half an acre of Texas clay into a native meadow while arguing with strangers on the internet who peaked in 1987.

I was raised somewhere between off-grid woods, free-range chickens, and the kind of life lessons that make you either very resilient or very weird. I chose both. I’ve danced on stages in New York clubs, spoken in rooms full of hackers and chaos agents, and somehow still ended up being the person who gets genuinely excited about milkweed seedlings and whether the screech owl is back tonight.

I am soft, but never weak. Romantic, but with excellent aim. I believe in kindness, but I also believe some people deserve to be verbally escorted to the nearest exit. I trust animals faster than humans, think ghosts probably have good reasons, and I fully intend to become local folklore one day—the woman with the wild yard, too many opinions, and a suspicious number of foxes who seem to know her by name.

Wishes on what we will become

 This is a post I keep writing in my diary. I wrote it during the covid shutdown. 

- There’s been a lot. Too many. So many. But, I like to believe the people we lose don’t really leave. They turn into wishing stars and soft pieces of stardust, scattered around just above us.

They become the quiet wishes people make without even realizing it. The little prayers whispered into the dark. The hope held in someone’s chest when they look up at the night sky.

I like to think they’re still there, just higher now. Watching. Listening. Loving us from a different place.

Sometimes I stand outside when the world is still and the air feels soft and gentle, and I look up and talk to them. I tell them everything. I tell them I miss them. I tell them I’m trying.

And somehow, I know I’ll see them again. It feels inevitable, like tides, like seasons, like love finding its way back.

Someday, I think, I’ll be up there too. Just another wishing star, still loving the people I left behind.

Not a cardinal 4/23/26

 Every night, same branch outside my window, same little concert in my yard.

I thought it was a cardinal - but not quite like a cardinal. 

It’s definitely not a cardinal. 

Turns out it’s a Northern Mockingbird.

Now I can’t un-here it switches, little mashups of other birds.

Kind of amazing once you realize what you’re listening to.

If you’re hearing a “cardinal… but off” at night… it’s probably one of these guys.

Happy and Always

 I wake up in the morning, only to be sad I awake again. I don't wish to be here, I live in constant, chronic agony. I have lost years to pain. Now this,  my memories haunt me.

 I can only hope that my time on this earth isn't so long, that you don't have to be my caregiver. That you might someday find someone who truly makes you feel full and happy, someone who makes you smile. Someone who teaches you to take deep breaths and explore the world  

Then perhaps, you and I should meet again. Our fortunes intertwined. 

You being my forever and always, and I - Your happy together. 

Shrinking until shrunk

This is the end of a story that I will never start writing. I used grammerky for my spelling and grammarly mistakes. But, the rest is me. 

Child King

. . .  “ Three more years,”

said the failed child king.

And the world laughed, until the laughter fell into tears.

“Never again,” they whispered, then said aloud.

“Never, ever again.”

The failed child king scurried off, blundering and bothered, wailing and crying out to anyone who might listen.

“But I am the forever king,” he pleaded.

The people gathered together and poured out the cherry-red potion upon the ground. They closed their windows and locked their doors. They remembered they were human. They remembered their hearts and their hope. They remembered what was important.

And - It wasn’t hate.

It wasn’t lies.

It wasn’t anything cruel.

The people knew there was still good left in the world. They came together and stood against the hate. United, they grew stronger.

The people stood against the failed child king.

“No,” they cried.

“We will drink no more of your magic.”

As feeling returned, the syrup crept beneath the doors — thin and sticky, but weaker than before. And as minds cleared, the people raised their voices and called out together:

“You are hate!”

“You are the failed king.”

And then the failed child king began to shrink. He grew smaller and smaller, until he was scarcely there at all — nothing more than a faint bit of smudge left on the floor.

And that was the end of the failed child king.

Dear reader, there is no place in this world for hate.

Love is the tale worth telling.. 

Love always wins. 💙