Amy Suardi

I grew up in Ohio singing Donna Summer and writing rainbow bubble letters. On weekends my sister and I would ride in the back of our Caprice Classic station wagon to our farm where we’d pencil-roll down the hill and feed crabapples to the cows. 

Now I live in Washington, D.C. with my Italian husband and our five children, tuxedo cat, and the peaches in our front yard.




How do you pronounce Suardi?  It sounds like a blend of “suave” and “party”:
sua + arty = suardi

goodbye to The way things were

Hello and welcome. This is an unfolding page of micro-memoirs, essayettes, and poems that I have been writing since the coronavirus broke out. The first seven months of pieces have been recently collected into a book: My Beautiful Terrible Pandemic Life.

A lifelong creative writer, I write to document my life, understand myself, and to find meaning and beauty in what often feels like confusion and chaos. My work has appeared in River Teeth, Babble, Motherwords, and The Startup, and I am also the founder of the Frugal Mama blog.

I see the short memoirs I write here as dots in a pointillist painting, flashes of color that slowly add up to a bigger picture.

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