- I dream it’s time to go. She wraps her arms around me and we both fall to the ground under the weight of our sorrow, clinging to one another wordlessly, already soaked in tears. I wake up with the sudden force of a nightmare, the grief so real it follows me into waking.
- The way forward is sometimes the way back. And vice versa.
- Impostor syndrome and post-launch blues sing their familiar song. But I tell them to get lost with a power and a peace I didn’t have three years ago, laughing out loud at how easy it is–now.
- I’m not sure if she’s in favor anymore, but I take a moment to be grateful for what she taught me, even if I didn’t appreciate it until nearly ten years later.
- Reminder: The word “amateur” is French for “lover.”
- I almost crash the car as the revelation lands. I avoid stomping on the brake to stop the world as I process the implications. Is that it? The key to all the disagreements, right there in a literary parallel?
- The best conversations usually happen when they veer way, way, way far from the original point.
- Another stab of impostor syndrome–I don’t have what they’re looking for–but I push through. I’ll give what I do have.
- I wish I could teach her how dangerous it is to run away without the necessary component of experience.
- The first back porch sit of the season.
