Introducing: Soft Landing for Hard Days

Earlier this year, over 30 wonderful humans I know were hit with a RiF. I was one of them. This post is not about that or any company.

I know the specific quiet that comes after. The inbox that goes still. The way a Tuesday stops making sense. The strange, quiet shame of it, even when you did nothing wrong.

I couldn't fix any of that. But I could make one small thing that sits with you while it's happening.

Soft Landing for Hard Days is a free app for the days that knock the wind out of you. A job that ends. A relationship that ends. A loss you didn't see coming. It is not therapy and it cannot make the hard thing smaller. It is just a soft place to land for a minute, a hundred gentle cards you can pull when you need something kind to hold onto.

It is genuinely free. No ads, no account, nothing hidden behind a wall. If anyone ever chooses to leave a tip, most (60% net) of it goes to Give an Hour, a nonprofit that helps people reach mental health care they might not otherwise get to.

I made this for all of us, you know who you are and you are worthy of landing softly. And for anyone else this year has been hard on.

If that is you right now, I hope it helps you breathe a little easier.

Soft Landing for Hard Days on the App Store
https://apps.apple.com/app/id6785770486

--Drew 🪷 🪶

Eucalyptus

I park at the curb near her driveway. A brown anole boasting, getting its reps in on a white bucket. She's kneeling down, wood not yet placed across the frames. A canvas covered with spray paint. She offers a chair first, and does the same. The wood holding

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Crushed under the weight of empty boxes. Tears. Borrowed from the ocean. Birthed by the moon. A sign hangs over the presents. Happy in orange, birthday in blue, Drew in green. 　　　　[I see nothing happy.] 　　　　[Can I bring myself to open them?] "Maybe after dinner." 　　　　[Will I even

A watercolor night garden glows with a palm tree, surrounded by green foliage and red flowers. In the misty water beyond, a rowboat, indistinct figures move toward the palm.

Land Well for the Boat

I will climb to higher ground, so we all will land sound. Them first, then me. Months of duty, I obliged. I will grip the palm until all of us reach the higher ground. Not one of them flails against the screaming waves; shelter we'll provide. I find

Clay

Her paw print, laid in clay. A concave piercing, always asking... Never answering.

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Eucalyptus

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Land Well for the Boat

Clay