HeyJaredLotte Vale
Lover of words, coffee, and the perfect knit stitch. Writing about life, connection, and the in-between moments, often with coffee in hand. When I’m not writing, you’ll find me knitting, capturing moody photos, or savoring a good Scotch.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 8
- Latest publication
- Aug 1, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 5, 2026
Latest issues
The Language of Ruins (opens the original)
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Some walls do not crumble all at once.They surrender to history one season at a time.The roof was taken by war.The silence arrived later.I stood among the broken stones and wondered what they had witnessed. The prayers whispered beneath their shelter. The footsteps that crossed their floors. The voices that once rose toward the ceiling before the sky was left to enter freely.The world calls them broken.The stones call themselves witnesses.There is a particular sorrow held by places like this, no
Beauty unannounced (opens the original)
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There is a hydrangea I visit on my walks.Like an old friend, I stop to see her.Each day, I wonder what outfit she has chosen. Some mornings she is soft and dreamy, others vibrant and impossible to ignore. She is always entirely herself.She never asks anything of me.She simply listens while I speak, holding my thoughts as quietly as she holds the morning light.She has become a small sanctuary along my path, a reminder that beauty doesn’t have to announce itself to be deeply felt.I love that I hav
There are mornings when love has nowhere to go. (opens the original)
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It wakes before I do.It stands quietly at the foot of the bed while the rest of the house is still wrapped in sleep, carrying everything it wished it could say.It is not dramatic. It does not pound its fists against the door or demand to be seen.It simply waits.Coffee begins to brew, and outside the window another ordinary day gathers itself. Somewhere, an ocean away, another morning is already half-lived. Someone I care about has likely been awake for hours, tending to responsibilities I cannot
The Sacred Art of Surrender (opens the original)
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The Sacred Art of SurrenderI have never understood the idea of keeping the body and the heart in separate rooms.Perhaps some people can divide them, place desire in one room and tenderness in another, passion here and emotion there. Perhaps they can touch without being touched, surrender without revealing themselves.I have never known how to do that.For me, intimacy has always been an offering of the whole self.It is not simply the meeting of bodies. It is trust. It is vulnerability. It is the q
A thunderstorm in Seattle (opens the original)
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So rare that the city seems to pause and listen.A busy café.A delightful, colorful cup warming my hands.These are the days I love this city.The days that ask nothing of me except to be present.To watch the rain blur the windows.To listen to conversations I will never be part of.To cradle a beautiful cup of coffee as though it were a small act of grace.These are the moments I wish I could slow time enough to live inside them a little longer.Just me,my beloved coffee,and a city quietly reminding m
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