#2: Fall wishes, pumpkin pie, & second chances

Letters from Linz #2

Dec 01, 2024

Dear reader,

Happy belated Thanksgiving. I hope you’ve been swimming in gravy, floating in mashed potatoes, summiting turkey, slurping turkey stew, and smothering your plate with pie. If not, I hope you’ve been surrounded by whatever your most favorite food and people are.

Here’s a piece of pumpkin pie I made this year, using my late Grandma Sing’s recipe - it was transcribed by my younger self on an eventually-orange-stained notecard that my mom still keeps in her recipe box.

Grandma Sing used to make it with me, showing me how to beat egg whites until they formed stiff peaks, and how to fold them into the batter without knocking the air out. Making it makes me think of her. I can still hear her crackly, bright, bell-like voice in my head as I move through each step. Okay, that’s about right!

Holidays are complicated for many reasons: some don’t have any gatherings to go to; some have reasons to stay away from family you’re supposed to get together with; and some have loved ones, who made the holidays feel like the holidays, that aren’t here anymore. There’s lots of unexpressed and complex love that gets baked into big feasts and gatherings. But, the best part of the holiday is just being together, and I think that’s good enough.

I’m grateful for making it this far, and for everyone who loves and supports me; I’m grateful I’ve gotten better at loving and supporting myself too; and I’m, of course, grateful for you, reading this, now.

In spite of life’s challenges recently (I’ve been therapist shopping - more on this later), my heart has been as full as my belly this week. You can tell from the joy on Juni’s face just how delicious everything smells (can confirm - mom’s cooking was amazing as always).

I hope your holiday season continues to fill up your heart and belly too.

Stay warm and full, wherever you are!

Good-writes

Prompt: A strange vending machine appears in your neighborhood overnight. Instead of snacks, the buttons say things like "Lost Memories," "Borrowed Time," and "Second Chances." You press one without thinking—then realize there's no turning back. What happens next?

I only noticed it once Juni caught its scent. The vending machine was covered in vines of green leaves, almost like hair cascading down shoulders. The window weakly lit up from within, a soft golden glow. Assorted cans labeled with different names stood neatly side by side. I didn’t recognize any of the brands – never heard of Lost Memories, Borrowed Time, or Second Chances. Sounded like bad marketing. I looked over at my dog, who lay belly down on the path, pin-balling her eyes slowly back and forth between me and the machine. I leaned my hand gently along the side of the machine as I bent down to pick up her leash, when I suddenly felt a jolt. The machine quivered. My finger had grazed one of the buttons. Juni’s ears perked up like a shrug. A tiny metallic clang echoed from inside, and a slot opened like a mouth at the machine’s feet. I rolled the can over slowly in my palm: Second Chances.

Juni took it between her small, front, baby-corn teeth, and bounded off down the path. The sun was low, and night was sinking in. I ran after her. My feet started to move like they would in a dream - thick and slow, like syrup; the sky around me started to move, tumbling into sediment, pouring like a waterfall; and sunlight seized me, like it does when you first wake up on rushed mornings.

Suddenly, the warmth cooled on my skin, and a small wind caressed my hair. I found myself sitting, high above the ground. I climbed down carefully, feeling the urge to press my baby fingers into cakey dirt on the playground. A small roly-poly unfurled itself before me, laying precariously on a wood chip. I felt my mind slipping - but before it did, I stared at my hands a bit longer, like babies do when they first realize they’re a part of them. I’ve gone back.

The stress of disappearing into the night started to lift, and life just became this roly-poly on its back. I’d always liked to play with roly-polys, I recalled. Things started to feel familiar yet haunting - like a song you hear playing in a restaurant that takes you back, but you’re not sure where to. I noticed how big the slide felt from where I sat on the ground, and I took in the blue, cloudless sky above me. I gingerly placed my finger underneath the roly-poly’s shell of a back and pushed it over. It waddled off.

A daycare teacher waved at me from a classroom door across from the playground, and I saw another woman emerge. It was my mom, standing in her black suit and heels she’d worn years ago when she still worked at the office. I felt my heart flutter in my chest, and I began to run - this time, my feet felt quick and definite. My breath escaped me in big gulps as I trotted across the playground and grassy field to meet her. It’s Mom, and I’m little again. And I’m so happy to be going home.

Good vibes

One of my biggest Christmas wishes this year is for Juni to have a happy and healthy gut. She’s still on the road to recovery from SRMA and a series of GI issues. Crossing my fingers for her neurology evaluation on Monday.

After reaching lots of dead-ends through job hunting, I’ve been lucky enough to find freelance work this past month. It’s been fulfilling so far, and I’m learning a lot. I’m currently working on messaging for a company with an inspiring mission in EdTech.

What I do has a lot of names: user experience writing, content design, product writing, UX copywriting… I find new names on LinkedIn every time I look. But, just think of it as using language to guide you through app experiences, to make your life easier, better, and dare I say it - cooler?

For any other small businesses that are struggling to tell their story, I’d love to find the right words for you. Maybe I’ll share my overall creative process here some time soon. 🫰🏻

In celebration of hibernation season, I’ve been doing more hot yoga. I’m not a hardcore yogi, but the hot yoga classes at Alchemy Yoga have been lovely ways for me to reset. Something about the sweating, down dogs, and breathing like you’re fogging up a mirror, all help me come back down to earth.

The nicest thing about Alchemy Yoga is that it’s right next to Coffee U, which I’m unashamedly a regular customer at. Normally, I’m an iced hazelnut latte girl; but I’ve been loving their peanut butter latte, ever since I got it on a whim (as consolation) post-election day. Yum. 🥜