Things Folded Into Other Things

That Was the Week That Was: July 21 – July 27

What Connects a Protest Photo, a Rooftop Promise, and a Public Goodbye?

This week, the threads were quieter—but no less binding.

Across essays, fiction, poems, and family reckonings, one theme kept surfacing: the quiet act of showing up.
For a brother, a memory, a funeral tea.
For a ghost folded into a cookbook.
For yourself, finally.

There’s tenderness here, yes—but also a kind of steady defiance. The choice to value presence over perfection. To face what was left unsaid and, sometimes, find the courage to say it anyway.

Whether it was Maggie B. tracing Netta’s folded past, or David realizing that showing up late is still showing up, or me finding the film I wasn’t sure existed—each piece this week carried a common undercurrent:

Something happened. I was there. And now I see it differently.

Maybe the larger question—quietly posed by all of them—is this:
What are we willing to revisit in order to move forward?

Essays

The Goldilocks Guide to Hitting Send

Because not everyone wants porridge for breakfast seven days a week.
On recalibrating Substack cadence—honoring both the daily writing practice and the reader’s breathing room. A rhythm not too much, not too little—just right.

Try, Try Again [Narrated]

A decades-long search ends not with fanfare, but a softly worded email.
This is the story behind the story: a lost newsreel, a surprise BFI viewing, and the family memories that live on when you say yes to trying again.

Poetry

The Space Between

For the versions of us shaped by survival.
A poem about grace, self-permission, and no longer needing to be explained.

Holding On

A family novel unfolding in hush and heartache

Chapter Ten – Holding On [Narrated]

David’s reckoning. Grief, guilt, and a moment of stillness with his father that says more than words ever could. A rooftop promise, a fragile truce, and the slow stitching of sibling silence into something softer.

Short Stories

They Did Nothing

What lingers after a man is buried: silence, complicity, and the uneasy camaraderie of those who endured. A son, a chair, a cup of tea—and a legacy that still trembles.

The Maggie B. Casefiles

The Frugal Kitchen

Maggie buys a wartime cookbook out of spite. Inside, she finds a protest photo, a whispered past, and a line back to a woman she thought she knew.
A case about placement, not accident—and stories meant to be found.