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The Forest Forager
The first thing the forest teaches you is how to listen. Not in the obvious ways birdsong, wind through pine, the creek arguing with stones but in the quieter language of patience. Of waiting. Of knowing when to step and when to stand still. I learned this from Rowan, who foraged like the woods were…
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Post cards I never sent
The town leaned toward the water, like it was listening. Evergreen trees crowded the edges of everything. They stood patient and dark. Their needles caught the rain that never quite decided to fall all at once. The ferry horn sounded some mornings, low and tired, as if even it needed coffee first. I bought postcards…
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The Season That Stayed
By the time October reached Maine, the town had already decided to slow down. Leaves crowded the sidewalks like they were in on a secret burnt orange, soft gold, the kind of red that looked hand-painted. The harbor water reflected the trees so clearly it felt like the world had folded in half and decided…
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Loving a City That Loved Me Back Differently
London was never just a place to me. It was a season. A relationship. A promise I believed in longer than I should have. I arrived hopeful, carrying the kind of optimism that only exists when you think starting over will fix everything. The city welcomed me in its own way gray skies, hurried streets,…
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Cancelled, Respectfully
There was a version of me who waited.Waited for replies.Waited for clarity.Waited for someone to suddenly decide I was worth choosing without hesitation. She thought patience was maturity.She thought silence meant depth.She thought if she stayed kind enough, quiet enough, understanding enough things would eventually work themselves out. They didn’t. What actually happened was simpler:I…
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Love of My Life, Loss of My Mind
There was a time when that relationship had me at its mercy. It wasn’t in a dramatic, movie way. It was in a quiet, everyday surrender that happens when you believe loving harder will eventually make you chosen. Back then, I thought love was supposed to feel consuming. I thought the ache meant depth, the…
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All the Places That Made Me
I’ve lived a life shaped by movement, change, and learning how to begin again. I went to college in Wyoming, surrounded by wide-open spaces that teach you how to sit with your own thoughts. That’s where I learned independence—not just academically, but personally how to stand on my own feet and listen to what I…
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Where Roses Meet the Tide
There was a time when I thought growth would feel louder. I imagined it arriving all at once like a declaration, a turning point so clear it cannot be missed. Instead, growth came quietly. It came the way water does: persistent, patient, reshaping everything it touches without ever asking permission. When I look back now,…
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The meaning I carried…
My name is Ashley. For most of my life, I carried it without questioning where it came from or what it meant. It was simply mine spoken by family, written on papers, called across rooms. As I grew older, though, I began to wonder about the deeper story behind it. Names often hold quiet meanings,…
Quiet Harbor Writing 