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My daughters and son are descendants of Ann Foster, an accused Salem witch. The line runs through my husband’s paternal grandfather, a...

Reflections on “Split,” published in HEAL: Humanism Evolving through Arts and Literature There are days in medicine that change you...

It started with a tug during HYROX in New York City. Not dramatic. Just a quiet, unmistakable pull in the back of my leg. I tried to...

Some stories only begin once you find the courage to be seen. For years, I wrote in the quiet margins of my life. Early mornings. Late...

Back in the city that shaped me, racing forward, reflecting back, and rising with every skyline light. This weekend, I returned to New...

When I started writing seriously, I didn’t set out to become a writer who tackled stigma head on. I was just trying to tell the truth,...

Twelve prompts, twelve hours, twelve windows into the mind. This past weekend, I participated in the Poetry Half Marathon: twelve poems...