A poem
Here’s to the beautiful conversations braided with grace — the ones that happen over coffee or tea, as the sun is shining and the birds are chirping, and you both come to the table with full hearts and open minds.
At that moment, you ask questions.
At that moment, you listen to answers.
At that moment, you cast aside whatever armor your wearing and bare a bit of your soul.
Those are the conversations that shape you, not shame you.
The ones that embrace you, not shun you.
The times that teach you, not leave you flailing without a lifejacket.
…
A poem
You’re deep in conversation, and the person you’re talking to tells you something that breaks or hurts or disturbs your heart.
You want to fill the space of their pain with something that will make it go away.
You want to bring peace back to the air between you two.
You want them to be happy, and free, and unburdened.
So you shower them with words that make them feel better. You pull them close and hug them and tell them that everything is going to be alright. You put on a smile, and you hold back tears, and you…
Lessons from Pelham Parkway.
When my mother was little, she and my Aunt Joanne went to the Macy’s on Pelham Parkway to get a shirt for my grandfather.
To shop at Macy’s was something of a luxury, but it was Christmas time, and my Nonna wanted to do something extra special for my Nonno. That, and he needed a new shirt for his work suit. She was trying to be kind, but she was always going to be practical, too.
So, she took her two young children to Macy’s during Christmastime. Sparkly lights and grand Christmas displays of red and green, and gold decorated…
A poem
One of my favorite phrases in the theatre
is when a director tells a performer, find your light.
You’ll hear it during tech rehearsals,
when the house is pitch black,
and there is a gentle hum backstage,
and the promise of a steady job is at your fingertips.
Find your light.
You’ll hear it when an actor is onstage,
but still standing in darkness —
and so, the director will guide them into the light.
They are instructed to find their light so that the audience may see them and hear them with ease, so that their words and their…
Sometimes, a single string of letters will not do.
Sometimes, there are no words for what’s brewing inside.
No word can encapsulate the feeling of anxiety and stress, and overwork of your brain. No word can describe the pitter-patter of your heartbeat speeding up, the sense of not quite being able to catch your breath and the way it seems as if a tiny elephant is sitting upon your chest.
Can you call it anxiety? Stress? A panic attack?
I suppose so.
But somehow, it seems so much more than that.
Sometimes, there are no words for what’s brewing inside.
No word can describe the feeling when you create…
Lessons from my parents.
My husband and I were having a casual dinner with my parents, and, strictly out of curiosity, I asked them, “If you had infinite income, more money than you could spend in a lifetime, what would you do with it?”
My parents blink.
My mom then says that she’d help rebuild what the hurricanes destroyed in New Orleans and Puerto Rico.
My dad then tells us that he’d want to end child hunger.
I’ve heard that question asked at several different dinner parties, casual happy hours, and general chit-chat amongst colleagues and friends. I’ve heard answers ranging from having a…
A poem
What would the world be like if we spent more time
and energy focusing on self-reflection and inner growth,
and what we pour into the world, rather than telling others
what to do or believe or think or act?
Would the world be kinder?
Would the world be warmer?
Would the world be a place that caught us when we tripped
and messed up, instead of delighting in our fall?
What would the world be like if we spent more time and energy focusing on self-reflection and inner growth, and what we pour into the world, rather than telling others…
The world needs more people like you.
There’s a memory from my early twenties that will forever linger in my brain.
I was home from graduate school, and at my parents, and reeling from heartache. It was the I can’t stop crying/I don’t want to eat/the world feels like it’s ending kind of despair. I felt as if part of my soul was missing. I felt as if my heart would never be able to mend.
I also felt like a fool for believing in the love I thought I had, for being kind, for trusting, for caring for this person.
And so, through my tears, I…
It’s so much bigger than a wedding dress.
My parents have been married for forty years.
Between them, there are forty-years of love and laughter and more memories that they can count.
Forty-years of adventure and simplicity, and questions like, who’s taking out the trash? What are we having for dinner? Where are we going on vacation? Who’s going to pick the kids up from dance class and lacrosse practice? Where are my keys? Did you pay the oil bill? The electric? The mortgage?
Forty-years of supporting one another as they advanced in their carers. Of holding one another through surgeries and stress. …
A poem
When you close your eyes and think of your happy place, what do you see?
Do you picture the waves crashing against the shore,
and the heat of the sand against your skin as you gaze out onto the water?
Do you envision a cabin at the top of the mountain, the ground covered in snow, and a hot cup of cocoa in your hands?
Do you behold a house full of people, laughing and eating and drinking around a table, with bellies full of food and hearts full of warmth?
When you close your eyes and think of your…
Megan Minutillo
I write essays and poetry about life lessons, love, relationships, and self-awareness.
