SERENICA: Demolition / May 20, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

Oh, friends. We've only started on this journey and what a ride.

Gratitude and Equanimity / May 17, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive the 15 years of time that existed between knowing you and loving you; but maybe it’s hollow lamenting not-knowings, past lives you were only a part of in obscure ways, or distances we utilized as justifications to exist separately in the universe. It feels wrong indulging such a twinge in my heart over something that finally submerged me in much needed hope, happiness, love, and fruition, because I’m anything but ungrateful.

Lutalica / May 3, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

You tell the world who you are in a million different ways. Some are subtle. Some are not. But it doesn’t seem to matter. This world has already got you pegged. When you were born they put you in a little box and slapped a label on it, so they could keep things organized, and not have to think about what’s inside.

Love Letters / May 1, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

A 30-day collection of love letters

Thunderstorm Looming / April 29, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

Maybe she has her head in the clouds, maybe she hides it there instead. But maybe this isn’t about her or her head. Maybe it’s about a woman’s body holding up the sky, the stars, the universe.

SERENICA: The Befores / April 25, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

In October of last year Mike and I began shopping around for used RVs and sometime around Halloween weekend we found one. She's a 37 ft. long 1996 Raven XL and belonged to the Hendersons (no sign of Harry!), a sweet older couple in Falcon, CO who were only the second owners and took such good care of her while they had her. She has less than 50,000 miles and we got her for $12,500, a total steal. We dubbed her the Serenica Landship, found a storage facility to store her for the winter, bought a gigantic winter cover, and sealed her up eager for fall and winter to pass quickly. Fortunately, they did.

Idaho (and a little Wyoming) / April 12, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” —D. H. Lawrence

Maybe It's Not a Big Deal / April 6, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

You're like a walking sun, but maybe it's not a big deal. Maybe it's not a big deal that you take care of me in ways foreign to me, that I can physically feel your love for me emanating from every pore of your body, that it's you and me against the world.

In Harmony with the Hurt / March 21, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

l think about you on these roads to nothingness, I think about my pain or regret or guilt that have become dead-end branches off my heart forever reminding the blood running through me that I could have been better, that I fucked up, that some things are never undone and never forgiven and never forgotten. Have you forgiven me? Have you eulogized the branches of your own heart? Or are you still struggling to live in harmony with the hurt?

Bloomed / March 12, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

How often do you do something that absolutely terrifies you? I've done 2 such things in the last week. I believed in myself enough to go after something I never would have throughout past versions of me, something that scared me but something I knew with every beating fiber of my heart that I could do and was more than qualified to do. I'm much more confident now, more comfortable with who I am and what I'm capable of, more ready for challenges and opportunities to lead.

Fridge Poetry / March 4, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

Last night we hung out in the kitchen partaking in fridge poetry. Dear universe, sometimes it's too sweet and good to be true.

Coin-Op Binoc / February 20, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

Coin-Op Binoc at the top of Pikes Peak

Born Looking for You / February 14, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

I was born looking for you. I was born in fragments, permeable and porous. I was taught that we are each whole persons, that we are not halves seeking to be made whole, that no other body could complete our own.

Lee / February 5, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

I am devastated that I can't be there with my family to grieve the loss. I am devastated that you all have always been so painfully far away. I am devastated that I couldn't spend my time with and get to you know all like I would have loved to. I am devastated.

For the Earth Beneath / January 6, 2016 by Rebecca Tillett

When I fell in love with you
I prepared for battle
I held my heart between my teeth
Until it was tough and impenetrable
Like a wanting calloused fortress
Yours to lay siege to

yours, yours, yours

Serenica Landship / December 18, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

I'm not yet sure where life will take us in this beautiful beast (dubbed the Serenica Landship for anyone curious), but I'm okay with that. The road is enough. The road is beautiful. The road is host to so many fantastic possibilities. There's something thrilling and freeing about embracing the unknown, about being tied to nothing but each other, about movement and escaping a static and stationary presence. I suppose there's something poetic in acknowledging the forward motion of life in such a literal way.

Seventy Years of Sleep # 4 / December 14, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

"I think we deservea soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough." —Nikka Ursula

Brandon, Kristin, and Adalynn / October 31, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

Little girls are truly magical, aren't they? Well, that's my opinion since I don't personally have one and thus get to run away laughing maniacally into the sunset when the impressive temper tantrums and glistening little girl tears start flooding the streets of Denver.

33 / October 24, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

Yesterday was my 33rd birthday. I worked too much. I drank too much. I smoked too much. But oh, the friends, the love, the fun, the sweetness of life I'll never tire of savoring. What a wonderful day, and so much to be grateful for. 33, I have so much planned for you.

Team Dunnero / October 13, 2015 by Rebecca Tillett

In the years it takes to double our lifetimes from the onset of our days as silly teenagers, I'll watch you profess your love and devotion to a lucky gentleman with a handlebar mustache on the banks of the Rio Grande, ablaze and glowing with the heat of the Fall desert sun. Your beautiful and brilliantly white dress, shimmering and dancing with each affectionate word you utter in the direction of impending and hopeful days, your relentless tears waging cyclonic wars behind the barriers of your reinforced but dampened eyes. Every word, a promise, every syllable a solemn prayer.