For various reasons, you push your pen aside, bury your manuscript under the mail. One kid or both get sick. You get sick. That rejection letter hits your inbox. You find another gray hair. Those tiny vials of serum you bought aren’t doing a thing to reduce your wrinkles. Your favorite socks have the F-word printed on them and while you’re charged wearing them, you feel guilty every time you drop them in the laundry. What if the kids find out? Can you pair up your socks in hiding? You’re never really alone. Not even when folding clothes. Except now when you have ten minutes between work and the end of school. So you garbage up on a bowl of cereal. Sneak a forbidden snack. Clear away the evidence. Just in time, too. The door opens and there they are: the kids. You ask them about their day, their homework. How was lunch? Science? Tell me about recess. Tell me everything. Tell me anything. Tell me your stories. Send me back to the page.
Writer | Teacher | Editor | Publisher