A sampling of my best and favorite pieces!
So I’m totally stealing this from
, but the update and small roundup of my own best and favorite pieces were so convenient, popular, and easy to point to… That I decided to have my own permanent, and timeless sampling of my shining stars!This will be a living list I’ll continue to update a few times per year.
What the repair man made me realize
A personal essay about the fluidity of life, brought on by the repair man I overheard talking to my grandma.
What the repairman made me realize...
Grandma reminds me of a queen bee now, since she’s lost her daughter and her husband within four months of each other. Everyone hovers around, keeping her company or her mind busy. So as I smoothed the comforter of the bed in the guestroom one morning after spending the night with her, I heard her usual repairman talking to my grandma in the kitchen–both rooms connect by a door that always remains shut and barricaded by a bed on one side, and a built pantry on the other.
How to tell the future
Really! A personal essay about how we all can truly tell the future, and how to potentially stop the “inevitable” from happening.
Inspired by the great game, God of War: Ragnarok.
How to tell the future
It’s 8:37pm on Sunday, a small handful of days before I’m supposed to publish this week’s Wednesday main post and… I can’t bring myself to write it. For the past week, some looming family news has been preoccupying my mind, and tomorrow (Monday) morning is when the person that needs to hear it (and will learn the looming news), will.
The Fingerprints Left by Loss
A poem about how grief for one person can show up differently for everyone impacted. Inspired by
’s newsletter and his video narration, “Dada.”The Fingerprints Left by Loss
After I finished watching One Word’s, “Dada” two weeks ago, I thought about my grandpa calling me “little lady” (a nickname he’s had for me since I was a kid, probably because I stopped growing at around 12) and our sweeter moments a few weeks before he passed. I then cried, and overflowing with emotion, let the poem below pour out of me.
What if it never gets better?
A reflective fresh take on despair.
What if it never gets better?
Some despair has hit me again; it hits quite often now. Me not knowing what the point of me or anything is… Me thinking I know what I wanna work on, but then feeling SO drained just looking at anything that used to bring me joy or pique my curiosity…
Sinner’s Bingo
Thanks to Reddit, I got to delve into an interesting game I’m sure a lot of us could have unfortunately played.
Sinner's Bingo
"What comes around, goes around. Remember that.” I had just set my first hard boundary and was met with hurled insults, yelling, threats, and “channeled messages from God” telling me exactly how God was taking my “selfishness.” But I felt nothing but pride in myself for
I wonder if Spring could’ve saved her
A poem where I tried to put into words what trying to save my mom felt like, because the constantly beautiful days of Spring began to haunt me.
I wonder if Spring could've saved her
Because I wasn’t able to get an essay out on Tuesday, I decided to share this poem I started on during a walk with my dad a couple of weeks ago. Its final form flowed to me a few days later, and after a very small amount of light edits, it’s ready to read. It finished its birth on April 7th.
When Solitude Becomes Bittersweet
In an analytical personal essay, I dive into the blessings and curses of solitude from the viewpoint of a parent-daughter relationship, brought on by a video that moved me by Jenn Im.
When Solitude Becomes Bittersweet
She took in the expansive sunrise alone, and began to cry. On the phone, her mom reminded her to take it all in. How in comparison, sometimes sharing moments with others makes you lose the moment itself.
A new chapter, a new Substack
This was the start of a monumental change in my world and in my writing. I was ready to rebrand (for good reason) and shared what this newsletter was going to become, and why.
A new chapter, a new Substack
The Tiny Moments newsletter has become Losing Orbit! Ever since my mom died, I couldn’t bring myself to continue writing the drafts and outlines I had saved up in my Google Docs. It just felt… off; I couldn’t breathe life into those pieces anymore. Now everything about my life is laced around the aftermath of losing my mom, and my identity as a caregiver,
Thank so much for being here, and for reading!
If you enjoyed what you read just from this lineup, feel free to subscribe to be apart of this space and to continue getting pieces sent to your inbox. :)
I love this. What a great idea, Cierra!
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