Let it burn, but not too loudly

 “Let It Burn, But Not Too Loudly”

If I smell the smoke and say,

“There’s fire on the way,”

They roll their eyes and mutter low,

“That’s not her place to say.”

If I shout, “Get out! Get clear!”

As flames crawl up the walls,

They frown and ask, “Why yell like that?

Her tone was uncalled for, after all.”

If I drag someone through the door,

Their clothes still catching heat,

They say, “That wasn’t her assigned task.

How dare she leave her seat?”

If I cry, “The roof is falling in!”

They whisper, “She’s too much.”

“She overreacts, she stirs things up,

She’s far too loud, too tough.”

If I ask, “Why weren’t we warned?”

“Who forgot the alarms?”

They hush me like a problem child,

Like truth could somehow harm.

They want me calm while chaos grows,

To smile while people choke,

To pass out paper towels and mops

While everything goes up in smoke.

But I was not made of plastic parts,

Of fake concern and grace.

If a fire’s coming, I will scream—

Even if it’s out of place.

Let them sigh and scold and glare,

Let them call me names,

I’ll carry bodies from the flame

While they play their small, safe games.

I ask what any sane soul would—

They act like it’s a crime.

But I won’t sit pretty and let things burn

Just to be liked in the meantime.

By, 

Samara Sant

Day One (well…partial day) of Mom Life:

 Day One (well…partial day) of Mom Life:

I’ve officially been a mama for just a few hours and let me tell you—what a ride already. 🍼🐾

Pippin is wiped out from all the excitement, baby girl is sleeping soundly, and I’m covered in a unique combination of formula, drool, and who-knows-what else. I’ve been up since 0300 because I was just too excited to sleep, and honestly? I still can’t believe this is real.

She may be four months old, but she feels like she’s going on one! She holds her head like a champ, follows people and objects, can almost sit up on her own, and rocks tummy time with long stretches of holding that adorable little noggin high. She’s blowing raspberries like it’s her full-time job, and she absolutely adores Pippin. The feeling is mutual. 🐶💕

She smiles easily, “talks” nonstop, and has already completely stolen my heart.

Also, fun fact: three women of above-average intelligence have now stared at her car seat for an embarrassing amount of time… and we still can’t figure out how to adjust the straps to save our lives. They will NOT stay the right length. So for now—I’m housebound until we win the car seat battle. UGH. 🚗😅

Today has already taught me so much—but maybe the biggest lesson? Mad respect for single parents. I actually caught myself saying, “If I had a partner, this would be so much easier.” Whew. You all are superheroes.

Feeling grateful. Feeling tired. Feeling so, so blessed. ❤️

#FosterMomLife #DayOne #GratefulHeart #MadRespect #PippinAndBaby #LearningAsIGo #LoveAtFirstSight

Tomorrow I Turn 51, and Today I Become “Mom”

Today, something extraordinary is happening. Something I have longed for, prayed over, cried through, and nearly given up on. Today, I am welcoming a baby girl—a four-month-old foster daughter—into my life. And tomorrow, I turn 51.

It’s hard to put into words what this moment means. It’s the crescendo of decades of hope, pain, resilience, and longing. A lifetime of feeling like I was waiting at a station for a train that everyone said had already passed. But here it is. She is here. And I am becoming something I thought I might never get to be again: “Mom.”

The Road That Brought Me Here

I didn’t arrive at this moment unscathed. Life has knocked me around more times than I can count. I have survived heartbreak, loss, betrayal, and disappointment. I have been ridiculed for where I come from, rejected by the very communities I’ve tried to pour my heart into, and left out of the stories that should have included me.

I’ve endured the silence of rooms where everyone else had family updates, birthday plans, grandchild photos—and I had none. I’ve fought through the crushing voice of an eating disorder that tried to steal not just my body, but my spirit. And somehow, through the fire of all of it, I built something solid from the ashes. A life of purpose, even in loneliness. A life rooted in service—to my community, to law enforcement, to kids who needed a voice.

But deep down, there has always been this one ache that never fully went away: the desire to love a child, raise a child, call someone mine. Not for the sake of performance, not because it would complete some picture-perfect family portrait, but because I have so much love to give.

And Then Came Her

Now, as I prepare her crib, organize her tiny clothes, and sterilize bottles, I feel every moment of my past pressing into the present. Not to haunt me—but to remind me how hard-won this joy is.

She’s only four months old. She doesn’t know yet what it means to be safe. To be loved deeply. To be wanted. But I will teach her. I will bathe her in affection, speak life over her, and show up every single day—even when I’m exhausted, even when the grief of my past sneaks in and whispers that I’m too late.

Because I’m not too late. I’m exactly right on time. Her time. My time.

The Weight of 51

Fifty-one is not the age most people imagine starting over with a baby. And yet here I am, standing at the edge of this beautiful, terrifying new beginning.

There is no family gathering planned for my birthday. No children or grandchildren rushing through the front door with balloons and laughter. No partner to hold my hand through the sleepless nights ahead. But what I do have is my fierce determination. My calling. My dog curled up beside me. A career that has taught me discipline and grace. A faith that refuses to be shaken. And now, this child.

I’m not surrounded by dozens of loved ones. But I am not alone. Because she’s here.

Dreams for Her

Already, I’ve spent hours researching everything from swimming classes to figure skating, from horseback riding to hockey. Archery, target practice (because let’s be honest, she’s going to learn to shoot straight like her mama), gymnastics, STEM programs, violin, art. I want to give her options. I want her to see how big the world is, and know that she is free to dream.

I want her to know that her beginning doesn’t define her. That her story, no matter how it started, is hers to write. And I will be there—every chapter, every page, every comma.

This Is Not the End—This Is the Prologue

Today is not just the day I become a foster mother.

Today is the day I honor every version of me that survived to make this moment possible. The girl who played school with egg cartons and dreamed of being a mom. The woman who lost too much, who was told she was too much. The person who gave her life to others even when her own heart was breaking.

Today is proof that God hears what we can’t even say out loud. That love finds a way through impossible doors. That the aching heart can still be filled—even if the timeline is unconventional.

Tomorrow, I turn 51.

And today, I am someone’s safe place.

God help me to be everything she needs—and more.

Because she is already everything I needed and didn’t even know.

#MomAt51

#FosterLove

#NewBeginnings

#ThisIsFamily

#ChosenLove

A New Chapter at 51: Peace, Purpose, and Preparing for Baby

There’s something deeply humbling—and quietly powerful—about standing at the edge of a brand-new chapter when the world assumes most of your story is already written. I turn 51 this week, and instead of winding down, I feel like I’m just beginning.

On Tuesday at 3:30 PM, I’ll welcome a baby girl into my home. This is a foster placement, with the very real possibility that it could become a foster-to-adopt journey. And while I know the road ahead will have its challenges, I’m stepping into it with an open heart, steady hands, and a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long time.

I’ve spent the past few weeks turning my spacious apartment into a home that’s ready for her—folding tiny clothes, rearranging furniture, building a space that feels safe, calm, and full of love. There’s no family here, no big support system, no partner. Just me and Pippin Took, my beloved dog who has faithfully walked with me through so many seasons of life. But somehow, that’s enough. More than enough.

I’m not doing this out of impulse or loneliness. I’m doing this out of calling and conviction. This is something I’ve long felt drawn to, and after years of service to others—through foster care, CASA, volunteer work, ministry, and my law enforcement support community—it feels like all roads have been leading to this moment.

A Life That Fits

There’s also a certain calm in the air these days. 406 Back the Blue, the support organization I founded, is running like a well-oiled machine. After years of pouring my own time, energy, and resources into it—building it from the ground up with no outside help—it’s finally in a place where it practically runs itself. I can’t even begin to describe the peace that brings. The mission, the momentum, the people who have joined in support of our officers—it all continues to move forward even when I’m not holding the wheel every minute. That’s the sign of something strong. Something that will last.

Working from home has only added to this sense of alignment. My job with the spine surgeon is structured perfectly for this new season of life. I work Monday through Friday, 7 to 5, and my apartment has become this quiet, productive sanctuary where I can get things done, sip coffee on snowy mornings, and spend precious time with Pippin curled up beside me. There’s rhythm. There’s purpose. And for the first time in a long time, there’s contentment.

Rooted in Montana

Pippin and I are back in Montana now, and I can say without hesitation—we’re home. It was never my intention to leave permanently, and now that I’m back, I know in my bones that this is where I’m meant to be. Montana has its rough edges. It can be harsh and cold, both in weather and in the way some folks treat you when you’re “from California.” But it’s also real. Gritty. Beautiful. Honest. And I’ve never been afraid of working hard to earn my place in a community. My life here is rooted in service, in love, and in truth.

Becoming Mom

Becoming a mom at 51 wasn’t something I could have scripted, but it feels completely right. I’ve lived a rich, complicated, joy-filled life. I’ve loved deeply, survived heartache, and stood alone more times than I can count. I’ve built a career, served strangers, supported law enforcement across Montana, and fostered hope in places most people don’t even see. And now—I get to open my home and my heart to one tiny human who might just change everything.

There’s fear, sure. There’s the reality of doing this solo, of being “the only one.” But more than anything, there is joy. Quiet, steady joy. The kind that grows from knowing who you are, why you’re here, and what you were made to do.

This is my new beginning. Not a reinvention, not a rescue, not a last-ditch attempt at anything—but the next right step in a life that’s always been defined by faith, love, and courage.

So here we go. Tuesday at 3:30. My birthday on Wednesday. A new chapter, a new life, and a love that’s already filling these walls.

Thank you for walking with me.

– Samara

Lover’s Point, Pacific Grove

 *At Lovers Point, Pacific Grove*

In the hush before dawn’s first light, we stand  

Where earth meets the endless swell of the sea,  

The fog, like a scholar’s ancient cloak, enfolds  

Each whisper of wind, each breath we release.

Pippin at my side, sentinel of the dawn,  

His soft coat gathers the chill of the mist,  

Yet in his eyes, a warmth that defies  

The cold—steady as the tide’s eternal pull.

Above, the gulls cry, spectral voices  

In the gray, their wings tracing histories  

Of cliffs and coastlines, a cartography  

Of salt and spray, ancient and ever new.

The seals call, distant echoes of life beneath,  

Where kelp forests sway in rhythms only the deep  

Can know. The air is thick with the scent of the brine,  

And something sweeter—yeast and warmth, a promise

Of fresh bread, of coffee brewed in quiet kitchens,  

Where day’s labor awaits, but not yet, not yet.  

Here, we linger, suspended in the sacred  

Embrace of place and moment, the world distilled

To fog, to scent, to sound—an erudite discourse  

Of nature’s own design, a lesson in simplicity  

And splendor, where even the most eloquent  

Words fall silent, humbled by the sea’s soft roar.

Life and profound loss

It's been a month! Mr. Darcy passed away, and Sookie St. James passed away less than a month later. The three of us spent over 14 happy years together. I am coming from a space of gratitude instead of sadness. My cats were there for me in every difficult moment, losing family and life events. I feel like I gave them the best life a cat could want. I loved them with all my heart, and I miss them immensely. If you've ever lost a pet, you know exactly what it feels like. I took this video of my new Gilroy, CA apartment, which seems too quiet sometimes in their absence. I turned 50 on Tuesday, and I enjoyed the day as much as one can when they're missing their two best friends, (Sookie and Darcy), but also Angie, Dawn, Tamara, and Don, and Shawn). Every day I feel like I am healing a bit more than I was the day before. Doing everything the healthy way, the hard and healthy way. Processing the pain and loss instead of putting it off to another day that never seems to come.

I'm spending a large amount of time out on the coast at PG, or Pacific Grove for those not in the know. My best pal and brother from another mother, Coburn and I are exploring every nook and cranny of the beloved coast we grew up next to. 

Dating when you're newly 50 has proved, interesting, to say the very least. California men are unique creatures. I was born and raised here, but I left 30 years ago, and things have changed, significantly. Some men take issues with a woman if she eats meat, carbs, gluten or fruits and vegetables that did not fall dead from the tree or vine of their own accord. Also, the fact that I possess and carry a firearm is an issue to some as well. 

When I moved to Gilroy, (Santa Clara County), I had to surrender my active Madera County CCW, and apply for this counties CCW, and just to get the initial interview was 8 months of not carrying as I was out and about at all hours of night and day alone. I had my interview and passed that again, then passed the background check again, and this Friday I have my psych eval online that is supposed to last 4-6 hours, and after passing that again, I will be on the last step which is to qualify at the gun range again. This will be the third CCW I have obtained. I think by now the Department of Justice knows I am a fully trained, and responsible, and extremely law-abiding citizen. I am thinking about competing in range competitions I've gotten so adept at this hobby.

All in all, I am taking everything in stride, and savoring every moment life has to offer. With friends I've had since high school, and new friends I've met along the way, and I have high hopes for brighter days to come. I'm even pondering getting a long-haired miniature dachshund, that I've already decided to name Petrichor, male or female.

If I could offer some unsolicited device, never miss an opportunity to love your people, pets and moments to their utmost; and never, ever, miss an opportunity to laugh at yourself, and at the absurdity of the moment, and with your beloved friends and family. I have so many happy memories, and even more to make. Miles to go before I sleep.