Or...how I am figuring out how to be a writer.
Experiences in adult potty training, a reflection on the little moments that shape us.
Just Read to Me
Library books. The sound. The smell. Crinkling plastic, shiny pages, inky and metallic. A fading film picture of three sun-baked, knobby-kneed boat kids. Two bright blond, one red-head, 1980’s home-sliced haircuts, generous in the bangs, efficient to keep salty hair out of eyes. Wearing undies and oversized shirts, leaning in transfixed around a weary mom … Continue reading Just Read to Me