by Leah Perrault | Jul 10, 2018
I love words. They flow constantly from my head to my heart, spill out of my mouth with laughter, make sense of my world. And sometimes, words fail. They take the air from my lungs or hit me in the face. Sometimes, there isn’t sense to be made. We have more access...
by Leah Perrault | Apr 19, 2018
“Do we fly to heaven, Mommy? Or do we climb the stairs?” The words have been swirling around me all week, God’s gift floating out of a chattering, restless mover at Mass. “I would like to know that, my girl,” I whispered, the hallow space in my chest aching. Charlize...
by Leah Perrault | Apr 10, 2018
The last several days frosted an intricate pattern of heart break over my eyes. Friday, 15 people from the Humboldt Broncos hockey franchise died in a tragic bus collision just hours from my front door. More than 100 people killed Saturday in Syria, between air...
by Leah Perrault | Dec 12, 2017
Last night, I removed my sister’s name from the Christmas address list. I was clinging to the letters of her name typed into a cell in a spreadsheet. I pressed the delete key slowly and then moved her children to new lines. Tears streamed down my cheeks. She died...
by Leah Perrault | Jul 25, 2017
Wounds are strange teachers. Ten days ago, I sliced through the tip of my left ring finger trying to pry leftover ice cream cake off the cardboard. (Don’t worry; I assured my inquiring brother-in-law that the cake was unharmed.) The sting was worse than the blood. And...
