“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”*
In the shank of what is euphemistically called “midlife,” I am sometimes adrift. My mother’s death unmoored me. I am questing after meaning and joy, but have often felt strangled by grief and its many tributaries. I see this blog—Mia at Midlife—as a way in.
*Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God
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