November, again.
Re-entering what is notoriously my hardest month.
Hi <3 I know this time of year can be daunting (at least, it certainly is to me!) so here I am, reaching across this endless void for some connection.
In recent Hali news…
The grand opening of Good To Go’s second marketplace earlier in October was a smashing success. We faced a few major hurdles (hi, Helene) but in the end, we pulled it all together and it was fucking amazing. I had so much fun showing people around and seeing our hard work play out in real time. We’re still working out some logistical kinks but the holiday season is looking really, really bright.
I’m excited to report that two of my pieces (originally published right here on my substack!) will soon find a home in the Loblolly Press winter zine, which will fund relief efforts in WNC. It’ll be available online for $10 on 11/22, if that’s something you are interested in supporting!
And on the concert docket — I got to see Taylor Swift on The Eras Tour for the second time last week in New Orleans! I had so much fun spending time with friends and soaking in NOLA’s vibrant culture. We laughed, we cried, we ate beignets. It was all really sweet. I also traveled to Raleigh to see Sabrina Carpenter on the Short n Sweet tour with Lucy and Madi last month. That show was truly electric. We scored free box seats after losing out in the Ticketmaster blood bath and it could not have ended up any better. And of course, we topped off the night with Waffle House.
It’s been helpful for me to reflect on all of the ‘wins’ this autumn has brought me thus far, especially as a chill sets in and the sun sinks lower sooner than I’m used to. I’ve already found myself with a little less of a desire to show up. It’s in seasons like this that I try to take inventory of every small thing that pushes me so I can reach deep and activate it when things get dark.
I wrote, last November, on how winter always finds me gliding down a crystal stream. She sweeps me up, pulls me under, and pounds me into the sediment until I’ve given up on the task of finding air.
And among this heavy breathing, I’m coming to terms with the fact that my experience with life cannot be ailed by vitamin D tablets and warm soup alone. No matter how many hours I spend between the rays of a still cool sun, grief’s hand will find it’s way to my neck and it will always squeeze.
Despite it all, I’ve been gently uplifted by the timely actions of my friends (a letter that arrives at just the right time), and the attentive care of my family (a hot meal on a Friday afternoon). I’ve been reaching deep — soaking in Sunday mornings with Reagan and Saturday nights on the back porch. As MB says, it is a lot harder to feel depressed in a room full of people you love. And by God, even when I have to peel my body out of bed, I will find that room.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring. Thank you for loving me.
I love you too,
HM