Still in my pajamas at an embarrassing hour, I open the package. I wrestle with the stiff cardboard to reach the beloved contents, pawing for a treat like a bear with a honeycomb. Finally book in hand, the emotions rise, threatening to fill tear ducts.
At last. Words to connect the dots between my reality and my wiring. A “me too” from others who understand this thirst for beauty and the hunger to create with baby on hip and hip teens still living in the house—and to do it today, not tomorro...
Published on September 22, 2016 03:00