Sabrina Lloyd

I left my dog at his new home today. The lovely people who asked to take him have been waiting anxiously, their arms looking to pet and lead. I’ve kept hold, not wanting to let go. I finally had to let go. He needed to be in the home that will be his forever now. My dog now lives on a beautiful vineyard here on our island, overlooking the sea, his backyard rows of purple grapes and blueberry bushes. The goodbyes have begun. The letting go has started. This ex-pat life. This m

My silence is so full. In between hands reaching for me, my every moment heavy with things to do, care for, tend to, I steal chances, seconds, hidden moments behind doors. I am diving deep in these hidden moments, deep into my nights, into words, literature. I have been inching my way towards a degree for what seems forever. I remember years ago, when having to start all over again, after leaving Columbia University and settling into a school in London, feeling like it was im

Fires still lit for early mornings and fading light at day’s end. Skies filled with a sometimes warm sun riding on still too crisp breezes. Spring seems to whimper in a corner as winter refuses to yield. But our rhythmic days have returned after the whirlwind tumble of school breaks. Maybe it’s age, maybe it’s the mediative quality of the island, but I find myself so deeply in love with routine these days. It means everyone is well. It means the wheels are all turning. It mea

After 23 hours of flying my husband arrived from South Sudan and then just hours later we all packed into the car to drive up the Pacific Rim Highway, to where the sea crashes into the shore on wild waves. Our island is gentle, soft. Our shore is silent and meditative, calming. The open north Pacific, out there on the edge of nothing, where land falls away into forever, the shore is brooding and powerful, and makes one feel so very small. What is it about that wild coast, whe

It’s the beginning of spring. It’s spring break. The rhythm of schooled days have turned into a tossed windstorm of bike rides, beach combing, farm visits, field running, and play dough covered hands. Children who never seem to stop moving, eating, needing, loving. All day we play, run, eat, until we collide with our pillows at night. Today, I watched them laugh for a solid hour. Laugh so hard their cheeks became flushed, tears running down from the  joy of their secret share

Be kind. I will show you how. Be strong in who you are, but flexible. Allow for change. Make room inside yourself for growth, even when it scares you. Especially when it scares you. I hope I’ve shown you what bravery looks like. Listen deeply, as I do to you. Speak confidently, as you see me do in life. When someone needs help be there as a friend. I will show you what friendship looks like. If your neighbor is sick take them food. We will cook together. Recycle. Nature is my