Naming the Problem

I live in a beautiful place.

We built on this land, with all the chaos of that; Spouse had built houses before, and I fell in love with the woods. It reminds me, to this day, of where we’d go camping every year when I was a kid: Valcour Island, on Lake Champlain. We weren’t allowed electronics–not even watches–so I brought books, and a journal, and I read and wrote and swam for a week. I remember blowing up air mattresses, the taste of the rubber; I remember the sound of the rain on my te...