ABOUT DESIREE I can tell you a lot about Desiree. The muse. The woman. The process. The question is: How much do I want to reveal? Well, let’s start with pronunciation: “De-zi-ray.” “Des” is reserved for people who intimately know me, and “Desi” is inner circle level. I write and travel and ask strangers odd, revealing questions. The history Deep in the heavy drama of an Italian-Cuban family, I traversed a shy childhood with writing, reading, and recording cassette tapes of blacklisted music from my bedroom boombox. Aspirations as a wife and mother were not dreams for me, yet my heart cracked open and marriage and kids happened. Admittedly, my family has suffered, but they keep me around for the twisted humor and tales of intrigue and embarrassment. We are East Coast transplants living in eastern Washington State. And no, it doesn’t rain all of the time here. We have a dry, arid Mediterranean summer climate (Csa, if you’re into weather). In other words, very low humidity. We only average about 17 inches of rain per year. We are not Seattle; you are Seattle. For many, COVID gave people an opportunity to reevaluate their norms; this was very true for me and my family. After almost two decades of church ministry, including my time as a pastor’s wife and a stint in seminary, we were ready to move on from organized religion. It feels really good to have our Sundays back. Nice things I love perusing thrift stores, yard sales, flea markets, auctions, or a neighbor’s junk pile. These hunts, probably requiring a tetanus shot, stem from our family’s love of history and geography. More tattoos are definitely in my future, and I would love to dye my dark hair a lovely pastel blue. Unfortunately, it would turn to straw in the process. (I’ve tried.) I have many favorites: my kids’ budding creativity, black coffee, killer heels, swinging in a hammock, reading heart-gutting flash pieces and chapbooks, and sexy photo shoots in fancy Airbnbs. What now? My life must include writing. I compose memoir, hybrid personal essay, and poetry. When there’s time left, I share my secrets. In a world that seems less authentic and more filtered, I’m drawn to the narratives and experiences of those finding solace on the periphery. Through quirk and tart, I crave uninhibited words that weave thoughtful connection. When writing, I can’t help pulling at the fray, snapping the loose threads, and examining why I must disturb a life-stitch.