At my friend's wedding, I arranged flowers while wrestling with memories of my own failed marriage. Sometimes the most beautiful arrangements come from broken things.
Author: Laura Joy Palma
The Piano I Left Behind and the Love I Found Again
I left our piano with my ex-husband because playing it without him felt like a lie. Seven years later, at a wedding with someone new, I discovered what second chances really mean.
Playing LIFE with My Boyfriend Taught Me What’s Missing: There’s No Divorce in Board Games
I sued Charming three times and still felt jealous of his blue-peg children. In Hasbro's LIFE, marriage is guaranteed—a mandatory stop for all players. But neither of us had instructions for when real marriages bite the dust. Maybe that's why we keep playing: we still have a chance to get it right.
Missing Golf Balls, Growing Cucumbers, and the Size 8 Dress That Changed Everything
I can't hit a golf ball to save my life, but I squeezed into that bridesmaid dress. Sometimes thriving means accepting you're terrible at Top Golf while celebrating the herbs finally sprouting in your garden.
Three Men, One Rollercoaster, and the Memory That Won’t Stay Buried
I've ridden the Griffon with three different men—my ex-husband, a rebound, and now Charming. Time buried the first memory but not the second. Sometimes we don't get on rollercoasters for the climb; we're seeking the thrill of the drop.
Thirty Feet Underground, Granite Taught Me We’re All Tending the Wrong Garden
Spring cleaning attacked my surfaces—dust, pounds, garden blooms. Then water on granite in a wine cellar showed me what I couldn't see: we focus on visible beauty while our roots determine everything. Physical health doesn't reflect the emotional, spiritual, mental. What good is a clean house when you're six feet under?
Keep Your Head Down Through Barbed Wire—And Other Wisdom That Saves You
Charming's voice echoed in my head under the barbed wire at Rugged Maniac: 'Keep your head down. Your shoulders will follow.' It was my father at the golf course all over again. Sometimes the people who love us give advice we don't know we need until we're face-down in mud, grateful they cared enough to warn us.
What My Italian Grandfather’s Garden Taught Me About Love
Grandpa Rubbo grew tomatoes with the same devotion he brought to Sunday dinner prayers. Here's what I learned about family, food, and the legacy of love when I planted my first vegetable garden.
When the Scale Says You’re Not Who You Used to Be
At thirty-three, I don't look like the woman in my mind's eye. Here's what my students' prom, a heartbreak playlist, and my azalea bushes taught me about moving on from time itself.
Snow White Worried She Wasn’t Inspiring—Then e.e. cummings Taught Us Both About First Roses
Five false starts into writing night, my student Snow White confessed her prom prep stories 'might not be inspiring.' But between her friend's heartbreak and e.e. cummings declaring 'feeling is first,' I found my first hidden rose of spring—and remembered why poetry has no boundaries.
Writer's Growth 