Today, I have been a mother for as long as it takes to become an adult. You probably realize this since you are the adult I mean. In prepping for this post, the 18th Annual Anniversary of My Motherhood, I’ve been reading the journal I kept for you from the beginning. I have only cried a little, and I have laughed a lot (e.g., “Lately, Drew, means like the middle
Eight years ago, I wrote on this blog, “I have a little idea for a novel budding in my head,” and that novel is still in manuscript-form on this very computer, resting, rarely opened lately, and otherwise simmering away so that when I face it again I can put it into shape with fresh eyes. I write things wrong before I get them right, apparently it’s just a thing I do.