others gone home
now there’s nothing between
the moon and me

–Seifu

Dear Reader,

Once upon a time, people paid me to watch their children. I still find this difficult to believe. I also wonder if these parents knew that this work was only further cementing my desire not to become a parent myself. But, children somehow seemed to like me, and I couldn’t stop myself from tidying up people’s kitchens and living rooms in the process, so everyone was happy. I was also a bit of a disciplinarian, and I remember one little girl I regularly babysat (who must now be in her mid-thirties) who announced she was going to rebel against my seemingly arbitrary authority by running away one afternoon, and she stomped up the stairs to pack her bag for the journey. A few minutes later, I heard her little-girl voice call down to me: “Carrie, can you help me? I can’t get my suitcase closed.” To which I replied in my usual deadpan babysitter voice: “Running away is an independent endeavor. You can run away if you can close your own suitcase.” Needless to say, that little girl didn’t leave her house that day. But, I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, as I, too, have been wanting to run away. And, I suspect that you may also have been having similar fantasies as of late.

If it is the nature of stars to collapse, it is the nature of humans to sometimes wish to run away. Escapism is the land of promise—the promise of no more overstuffed inboxes; the promise of a land with different rules and rulers; or the promise of all that might be missing (like rest, like a pause button). I recently gave way to the impulse and ran away for a few days to a place with the promise of ghosts and giant trees, azalea blooms, humidity, and biscuits with pimento cheese. It was all quite lovely and floral and hot and delicious, but the thing about running away is you always seem to bring yourself with you. And once again, there you are, pondering all the same questions and worries, just with sunburn on your shoulders.

I couldn’t quite tell that yet to the little girl who couldn’t get her suitcase closed—that even if she decided to make her way outside the door without her luggage, it would still be there with her, proverbially crammed shut, one sock likely zipper snagged—I don’t think I knew it fully yet myself.

I feel so many of us right now are caught in a tug of war between the desire to flee and the desire to dig our heels in, questioning which is the greater act of resistance. And, like usual, I am trying to find a way to do both—to both fight and take flight. Surely, art can create a space of radical resistance and restorative rescue even in these times. I want that for us. But, it’s going to take real work and real energy, which I know is extra hard to find right now as so many are dodging attacks on multiple fronts of our humanity, ideas, and livelihoods. It will require our advocacy for and support of each other, and it will require us to stay engaged and connected to each other as champions for the creation and fostering of our best human impulses.

Let’s be kind and patient with one another. Let’s be generous with our imaginations. And, if we’re going to run away, let’s all run toward the work.

—Carrie

Book Recommendation

Mornings Without Mii by Mayumi Inaba, translated by Ginny Tapley Takemori: My current grief reading tendencies originally drew me to this recently translated book, originally published in Japanese in the 1990s, as it promised to be a moving memoir about a writer and her cat. And, it is that. But, it’s also so much more, in that it is also a very interesting portrait of Tokyo in the 1970s, not only as it changes and grows as a city, but also what it’s like to try to make a life as a woman and a writer during that time. Highly recommended for those who are not only missing their dear cat friends, as I am, but for Japanophiles, also like me.

This Month’s Recipe: Strawberry Mochi Muffins

Spring, of course, means that my plum and cherry trees are in bloom, and my backyard strawberries are stretching out their leaves toward the sun. But, it also means that it’s time that I hurry and use up the remains of last year’s harvest still stashed away in the freezer. This weekend, as the cherry blossoms first opened, one final package of sour cherries was turned into handpies, and the remains of some strawberries became Japanese-inspired mochi muffins. I based these on a recipe from Saveur and then took my usual liberties: Adding strawberries, of course, swapping coconut oil for the butter, oat milk for the coconut milk, and adding a generous portion of lemon zest. They are a lovely, light spring treat with the characteristic chew brought to you by the mochi rice flour. おいしい❣

Upcoming Poetry & Biscuits Reading

Mark your calendars! More readers and dates will be added soon. And, I always welcome your suggestions and recommendations for writers who may be traveling through Chicago. Send me your readers!

May 2, 2025: Hedige Choi, Paula Cisewski, Richie Hoffman, and James Shea

July 18, 2025: Jenny Browne, MC Hyland, Kristi Maxwell, and David Welch

September 2025: Liam Heneghan, Erika Meitner, Christine Poreba, and Andrew Zawacki

November 21, 2025: Joseph Peterson, Donna Vorreyer