Upon opening the jar of coconut oil (for cooking, hair, and skin care), right when my finger makes contact with what is too solid for comfort, I think of Iris and her graduation party, which was an utter calamity. Iris and I had attended kindergarten together, but it was by the grace of my cousin’s status as a pretty blonde girl that I even knew about any of the parties. From the moment we arrived, it was clear that it was a mistake for anybody to be there; at least for those who had received invitations to other parties. I couldn’t tell on which side of the pause my cousin belonged, but she had in her eyes the boredom of a person who has choices.

Proudly nasty, I joined Anja, my mother-in-law Sauci, and millions of others around the world last Saturday to attend the Women’s March. Museum Square in Amsterdam was full of pussy hats, face paint, smiling faces, and righteous indignation.

“Slept a little, had a midnight snack, went in for a bathroom break. Slept some more. Basically the life of a four-year-old” she says, and she tells me about her flight to Stockholm. She has been sleeping poorly lately; I say “lately” but I only met her last month, so I don’t know what her sleep hygiene is, although she says “it has improved since I began falling asleep in your arms”. I imagine how she sleeps on the plane, entertaining the other passengers, cabin crew, and pilots with her stupefyingly loud snores.

In many ways, 2015 was a transformative year for me.

I offered this confession as part of my confirmation into the Mennonite Church of Haarlem. While I recognize a few details that make me chuckle or cringe, much of what I believe today is reflected in the words below. At the time, I believed this church was the most at-home I would ever be able to feel at church. After I moved away to Amsterdam, and after years of being a spiritual nomad, I discovered All Saints.

“I’ve heard someone compare it to the relationship between a parent and a child. I imagine a child wanting to create a birthday card for his mother, opting to draw her portrait on the cover. Does that child draw a lifelike portrait of his mother? No, but it sure is endearing. I just want to draw the most beautiful portrait I can with the colors I got from my Mother.”