I've moved! This page should automatically redirect in 5 seconds, but if it doesn't, then click here.


in inches.

i ran down the hill toward home.

home for now.

the air was cool, bordering on blistery, but certainly not becoming of february.

my feet throbbed and i wondered why i had chosen to wear my blue-suede-pumps to work--where was the sense in that?

it was close to two, middle of the night, exhaustion creeping in that uncomfortable way around the back of the head.

this is your becoming, this is your becoming, i repeated, calling forth the wisdom of my elders and betters.

i could make a list of everything that's upsetting me. and in three months time most of the issues will have passed or receded or proved blessings. i know this. there is comfort in this.

and yet, three years ago i might have said the same, but there are still those few, same uncomfortable, unanswered questions. the same unanswered love, the same unfulfilled home in this city.

this is your becoming.

it can change in a new york minute. that's what they say. but it's been eight years now and any good changes have been a fight. slow and painstaking and absolutely measured in inches--won in inches and years. nothing resembling a minute.

this is your becoming.

you see, most days i feel like i'm banging my head against the same damn walls and lord i need a good cry, but hell if it'll come.

this is your becoming.

just one good thing, i think. one good, unexpected little miracle. let it surprise me.

that's all i want.

i sit with that wish. for a good long while i let it take up just enough space, careful it doesn't consume.

and then, just the other day, while listening to the avett brothers and paging through a script on the long, unforgiving train to the outer-fringes of brooklyn, there is a thought:

you are the miracle.

this is my becoming.

i am the miracle. my very existence. the breath that rises and falls. the little rebel heart that continues to pump blood, continues to fall in love even when i can't see the sense, or summon the strength. the will to be better, to be more, to see wider and love more freely, i. am. the miracle.

the rest will come. because i exist and i want and i'm willing to fight--even in inches. each day is more, even when it feels little and ugly--the day is more. the inches will add up, the inches will accumulate.

this is my becoming.
i am the miracle. 


Anonymous said...

you know I am in love with your writing.

Miss Wendy said...

This is honestly the most amazing bit of writing I've read in a while. It made me cry in a good way. I needed this today.

Chelsea said...

I second the last commenter!

great words for such a great lady!


Alivia said...

Yes. This is simply brilliant.
If I could marry a writing style, it would be yours.

look a little closer said...

this is beautiful.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for this. Wednesday needed it.

Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...

Alivia is also spot on.

Hannah said...


My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird —
equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me
keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
that we live forever.

~ Mary Oliver ~

haley said...

this is so beautiful, your writing is amazing. love your blog :) praying for a miracle for you!

Erin said...

love this. beautiful, as always.

and just to let you know, i referenced one of your posts and borrowed the idea on my blog today.


coley said...

loved this post. if only we could all always remember this. the world would be a better place. xo

The Heart of the City said...

beautiful words.

Emily said...

Miss Fee, I have this selfish little desire to own a book full of your writing one day. I don't know if you would even care to take on that daunting task, but I'll be here hoping all the same. I want to be able to hold it in my hands and know that such treasures as this lie inside. :)

KINGJOAN38 said...

Beautiful words...thank-you

AshCall said...

I've been reading your blog for years, really (under many different blogger accounts). And it makes me happy every time I read it.

forward [e]motion said...

yes. to all of it.

exactly what i should be telling myself.

thanks meg.

bel. xx

Britti said...

I second Emily's wish completely!
And you really are a miracle.
You're going trhough rough times and at the same time you write down these magical, honest, healing words. They've helped me so much. Thank you.

Lottie said...

You're so talented!

Ashley and Patrick said...

On one hand, the writing is beautiful. You are very talented.

On the other hand, this caught my eye:
"just one good thing, i think. one good, unexpected little miracle. let it surprise me.

that's all i want."

Do you know how many good things happen to you every day? You, with a kind, supportive, loving family, enough money to pay the bills, with the opportunity to act (like you've wanted to do), with good food to eat and good music to listen to...do you know how many good things happen without acknowledgment? Don't forget that.

meg fee said...

@ashley and patrick:

believe me, those things do not go unnoticed. when i said one good thing--i was speaking more in terms of those big life-changing things--in answering those big life-determining questions. there isn't a day that goes by that i don't give thanks for the roof over my head and the many blessings bestowed on me--not a day that i don't feel guilty for all the good fortune bestowed on me.

your point is well made.

Alex said...

I needed to read something like that, so thank you :)

MVN said...

this is exactly what I needed to read today. thank you for your beautiful words.

emily scoggin said...

This is a really beautiful thought. it remind me of a wonderful quote by wendell berry, "And this is when I see that this life is a miracle, absolutely worth having, absolutely worth saving. We are alive within mystery, by miracle.”
Thank you for writing.

Mawn said...

This amazing essay--blog post is just what I needed to read today, thank you. I'm grateful you're able to share these things.