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  • Writer's pictureChiara

A Hot Minute

The funny thing about that title is that it's the first thing that came to me when I was mulling over the fact that I haven't actively published anything in the last little bit. Actually, that's not the funny part - the funny part is that as soon as I typed it as the title, I googled it, because I wanted to be completely sure of its meaning before I used it.

One example of not being aware of popular terms and vernacular is "snack". My sister recently posted something on Instagram referring to how a person can be called a snack, and I had NO IDEA what this meant. Not even the slightest clue. So I had to google it (what did we even do before google? I guess we went to the library, or asked our parents, or phoned our friends to see what they thought? And we had all of our friend's phone numbers memorized, because we weren't allowed to put them on speed dial - that was just for who our parents wanted on that list. Now I can still remember my childhood friend's home phone numbers, but don't ask me what their cell phone numbers are. I have no idea. Wait, this was a big tangent, so let's get back to it).

So a "snack" - I enter into google "how can a person be a snack", and the first result was from I'm sharing this information because I'm assuming that perhaps some of you are also very uncool and have no idea what this means. says: "But, in the 2000s, snack emerges as slang for an attractive person (i.e., someone who looks sexy enough to scarf down like a snack). ... This internet slang also uses snacc, which was notably incorporated into animal riffs on a He protec But He Also Attac meme".

I considered then googling the last part of this reference, because I also have no idea what a "riff" is or whether that last part is actually English, but I knew if I started this, it would be like when I look at one stupid Reel on Instagram and then all of a sudden it's 3 hours later and I'm crying at how nice it is that some elderly man is reading a story to a baby platypus.

I don't want you to think that I haven't been thinking about you or my blog over the last bit- I absolutely have been. I've also been writing for money (hooray!!) but that's not the only thing I love about writing. I love being able to sit down like this, where my thoughts flow and my fingers fly, and it all just comes out and for some reason someone wants to read it.

I have been writing things, but they've been random things that I meant to expand on, so I'll share some of them with you. But before I do, I want to briefly talk about mental health, because even though it's becoming kindof a fashionable thing for the young folk to talk about, not a lot of us in our 40's do. I'm going to come right out and say that I've been struggling pretty hard lately. I've felt out of control of my emotions and even though sometimes I feel like a good cry would make me feel all better, for some reason my body won't cry. It's like I'm too tapped out to even exert the energy required to cry because then maybe I would turn to dust or something. I mean, I'd be pretty sparkly dust, but I wouldn't be honest with you if I didn't say that I feel like I'm a pile of dust held together by string and Elmer's glue. Which if you actually visualize how that would look, it's not held together very well, which is an accurate reflection of how I feel. But don't fret, pets... I am talking to a therapist (which I think we all should, as you know), and I also know that I am not alone in struggling with mental health right now. There are many people who wouldn't have ever thought they'd be remotely susceptible to mental health issues who are having a tough time with our lack of normalcy and how our current reality just seems so absolutely unreal. So if you're struggling, you're not alone.

Now to the promised random writings. Maybe you'll love them. Maybe you'll hate them. But I wrote them to share and so share I will.


I wrote this after a conversation with my Mom about moisturizer - yes, that sounds silly, but my Mom was talking about how she applies it to her hands religiously because she doesn't want them to look old. And then she started picking apart her hands and how they didn't look how she wished they did. I didn't have the words then, but of course, I found them when I wrote:

My Mother’s hands

My mother's hands are soft but strong

They’ve held me through my life

As a child she rocked me close

As a grown woman, calms my strife

My mother's’ hands, they soothe me so

Fingers dance on piano keys

Music eased my mind on restless nights

Heart filled with memories

My mother's hands are beautiful

Each crease does show the times

She brushed off dirt and tears that flowed

Then set us free to shine

My mother's hands, she does lament

Although I must confess

If she but knew the love they’ve shown

She’d know their preciousness.


I was feeling quite poetic over Christmas, and was writing my chapter for a book I'm co-authoring that comes out in the spring. My chapter is titled "Too Much", and it dives into my experiences with being made to feel like who I am doesn't fit who I should be or what society expects a woman to be. I wrote this poem when I was supposed to be writing my chapter - it's the words that made more sense to me to express how I felt, but of course I couldn't put this into the chapter, so it just sat there.

And she walks towards winter

Gone is the sun

Howling and bitter You feel her come undone

Bare feet through the snowy

Face towards blue

Fire it is glowing But she wants only you

And she walks towards winter Nothing but peace

Wonder who sent her

She glides through arctic trees

Snow covers the ground here

Sparkles and bright

Reach for her, come near

Disappears out of sight

And she walks towards winter

You catch but a glimpse

Pierced by a splinter

Delicate fingerprints

Straining past frail snowflakes

Warmth you provide

Heat does not love make

Attend the searching mind

And she walks towards winter

Will she leave you regret

Your thoughts they don't fit her

The footprints, they are set


Lastly, I found some of my old choir music. You may not have known this fun little fact about me; I love to sing and I'm a pretty alright alto. No, I'm not going to sing a solo, but I started singing in choirs when I was very young and traveled with my choir to compete. We were pretty good. But just like maybe 1 or 2 other people, when I'm singing to myself, I picture myself on The Voice and wonder which song I'd sing, and whether anyone's chair would turn (it wouldn't, haha). For the record, I'd sing a Jann Arden song and knock their socks off with my soulful words and voice, and how it was something they'd never heard before. And they'd feel the depth of emotion in my voice and turn just to see who I was. So this old choir music brought out some soul-searching and realizing who I truly am and how important it is to focus on that truth, and on who gets to define me. Also, the freedom that is found in that truth. The last part of what I wrote here is from the choir music, but now I can't find it and even googling it doesn't bring up a result. So whomever wrote this, sorry, and thank you. All I know

Have you ever been at the end of your rope? Have you ever known that there was nothing left to try but a miracle? That's where I was. All of my remembered life was hearing and not seeing; stumbling and never running. When I heard of him, it sounded vaguely familiar. Something I remembered was comforting when I was a child, but had since lost the sense of as I tried to make my way through life my own way. As I considered approaching him, I felt the familiar glares and heard the whispers of "who does she think she is?", "she's got a past that just won't go away", and "she refuses to give that pain up, she's stuck on hurt".

But then there he was- his whisper to me overcame the background noise. He said "you belong to me, you are loved, I have a plan for you. You don't know what this plan is; it will still be difficult at times. You will hurt and you will run from me but I will never give up on you. I love you with a love that is beyond comparison. We'll get through this together- and I promise you a better tomorrow."

I hoped no one would notice me as I went towards him. I was embarrassed to be so openly vulnerable and willing to give control to someone else. I knew that trusting him would be difficult, but I pulled out all the hurt, the pain, the resentment and the cynicism and I gave it to him. He took it and smiled, and said "thank you. I've got a good place for this, I'm more than willing to take care of this for you if you'll let me."

I started to walk away, but turned back with feelings that perhaps he was fooling me, perhaps he was just like everyone else, he was going to throw it all in my face, now that I had let him see my heart. I turned, and saw him with a smile on his face but a tear falling down his cheek, and he said "it's Ok. I'll take good care of you, but again, you need to let me".


In the silence of a moment, I looked up and saw his face And I don't know how it happened, but I felt my past erased. How he sensed the desperation of a broken hearted land, I don't know how he could carry such a healing in his hand.

All I know is that he found me, and All I know is that he cared All my past and all my pain Vanished as he called my name,

I am free and that is all I know.

Who is this who brings forgiveness to a heart that once was stone? I don't know how he has touched me, but my heart is now his home. And I don't know where he came from, I just called upon his name, And I know with every heartbeat I will never be the same.

All I know is that he found me, and All I know is that he cared. All my past and all my pain Vanished as he called my name,

I am free and that is all I know.


Love y'all. You're worthy. You're important. You're beautiful. You're brave. You're loved.

(Some of the things my daughter and I say every day. It's important because it's true.)


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