I started a Substack.

I haven’t talked much here about why I moved back to Spokane, or what the last couple of years have really been about. This first piece is an attempt to begin doing that.

The piece I’m sharing today is about the phone call that changed everything—the moment I found out my brother had gone missing. This coming Monday marks two years since his death, and writing this felt like a way of finally setting something down.

(Thank you to Pivot Spokane for the chance to share an early version of this story at a local storytelling event in November. There’s a video in the post. The video isn’t my favorite! The content is fine; it’s just…the camera angle. But don’t mind me. I’m very particular about these things.)

I’ll be sharing essays there—about grief, recovery, family, and the slow work of making peace with what you can’t fix. Subscriptions are there if you want to support the work, but mostly I just wanted to share this first piece.

Thanks for reading.