The No Sex Rule- Chapter One
It’s the third date.
And you know what that means.
Isla Monroe certainly does.
After exfoliating herself into near-divinity with expensive seaweed-infused body products and achieving what can only be described as Rich-Bitch energy, she's convinced tonight is mandatory sex night.
Ben—the mysterious gentleman with the devastating kiss and frustratingly perfect manners has no idea what he’s in for. Or does he?
A Quiet Strength
Most of her childhood remains tucked away in silence.
Little fragments slip out sometimes like old photographs caught in the wind, but never enough to reveal the full story.
Only enough to understand this:
she survived things that could have hardened her permanently.
And yet somehow —
she remains soft.
Forever Seventy - A Daughter’s Tribute To The Man Who Taught Us Laughter Is The Best Medicine
And then… April 12th changed everything.
Morning coffee will no longer include you physically by mom’s side on FaceTime — however, I don’t doubt you’re within reach of every step she’s taking.
Our hearts ache with the simple thought of not hearing you walk through that front door — the sound of your cane clicking with each step.
Your wandering eye at the dining table as we play a ferocious game of “Jimenez Rule” Rummy.
The Yankee game playing in the background on an astronomically high volume — as you murmur under your breath, “No one can give us back our ‘98 Yankees.”
Or, your infectious belly laughs that have us in stitches right along side with you.
Heart & Hope
I wasn’t asking for miracles. I was asking for clarity.
For staging. For truth.
For a fighting chance to understand what we were up against.
Then the admitting physician walked in.
Cold. Detached.
That quiet arrogance that fills a room before he even says a word. His sense of superiority — nauseating.
He spoke like this was routine. Like this was nothing.
Like we were nothing. And then he said it.
The One I’d Find in Every Lifetime
It took me a long time to learn you cannot win against someone who refuses to heal.
You cannot keep assisting misery and calling it love.
You cannot keep negotiating with gas-lighting narcissism like it’s a personality quirk.
Christmas, Without the Chaos: A Love Letter to Quiet Joy
It’s time to start recognizing the signs that you’re being guided. Not lost, you fickle bitch.
