Mindy Tsonas Choi

When we were little, my dad used to make us homemade birthday cakes cut into familiar shapes and displayed on large foil covered boards; a Raggedy Ann doll with Oreo cookies for feet, and a big white rocket ship among them. I can vaguely recall him making the intricate details with colored icing and dotting row after row of little frosting stars to make these in our honor. I know I have pictures of them somewhere and they were quite impressive in scale as well as in concept, but it's the idea of my dad imagining and then making these cakes for us that really is so touching because I understand as a mom now what a labor of love this is. Dad used to make us other things too, painted bookcases and cool furniture with matching upholstered chairs for our rooms, mine always pink and green, my brother's blue and red.  He even hooked me a beautiful rug wall-hanging with a big basket of playful, white kittens and my name stitched in curly capitol letters across the bottom. I love

Lately I've been marveling over how far it feels like I've traveled in such a short amount of time. This season in particular, where the grief and solitude has alchemized into something else transformative and healing. So many of my stories that have spanned an entire lifetime, the big existential ones about love and family and abandonment and truth, feel like they are converging in real time linking together past and present and revealing everything that has been locked behind a hidden door for most my life. Old narratives are tumbling out and in the light they look different, more stark and fully formed, yet also somehow softer around the edges and easier to hold than what I once believed. So, I am learning to hold them for the first time, captivated by the wonder of something vulnerable and newborn with a wisdom that also feels familiar, ancient and enduring. Most of it has been hard... like deep-in-the-bones, exhausting, heartbreakingly hard. And all of it has been t

Slowly, I am finding my way back to togetherness. My first gathering in my home a couple weeks ago was a sweet success. I brought together my kid's friends and their families, my creative friends and their people, some of my new neighbors and even people from my work. It was the first time I've ever hosted this sort of mash-up. In the past I've always kept my different communities separate, compartmentalized. These days it feels so good to dream into new possibilities that might be very different than what I previously had built my life around. Almost every aspect of my life feels like a blank slate, so I'm stretching out to feel the expanse of what might become.  I'm slowly reconnecting with friends who I haven't seen in so long. I've been in my cocoon of solitude since I move into the new house and it felt necessary to keep my heart and my kids safe in the transition. The energy is definitely opening up for whatever meant to be next. I love being