Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

She said, "Don't be surprised if you cry."

She said, "Don't be surprised if you cry."

Still, the tears caught me off guard.

I'd been expecting them to come soon after the Feldenkrais workshop, but I didn't feel much of anything in the following hours. Just a strange lack of tension in my jaw, as though it had floated away from my face and was now hovering a few inches away.

"How long does this last?" a woman asked the instructor after class, a little breathless, her eyes full of wonder. 

"It depends. Sometimes an hour, sometimes a few weeks. The more you do it, the longer you'll notice the effects." 

The floating sensation followed me home from the workshop. It didn't stop me from falling into the same old frenetic routine, trying to feed the kids dinner and straighten the house and mend a rip in the bed sheet before story time. But my body felt strange, like an empty room reverberating with echoes. A place both foreign and sacred.

The tears came in the darkened nursery as I nursed the baby. I scrolled Facebook for a few minutes but grew bored and set down my phone. The second my eyes met his, I started to sob. 

The instructor had said this might happen. But why cry now? Why cry at all? What had the workshop shaken loose inside of me? Was this just some stupid placebo effect; some psychosomatic validation that the $45 workshop fee hadn't been wasted? 

The baby, mistaking my sobs for laughter, pulled away from my breast and smiled.

I smiled back, but the tears kept coming. I wasn't crying out of sadness, I realized. I was crying because it felt like I was seeing him for the first time. 

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Greetings from Tiny Town

Greetings from Tiny Town

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