It’s a Sunday in November at 11:51 in the morning. I am sitting on a fake leather sofa in the corner of a bubble tea place inside a half-finished mixed-use development fifteen minutes from my house, where I have left my husband and the baby to go out and write for the first time in a year.
Ah, I needed this today too. I’m also in a desert of not writing at the moment, and need to find my way back.
This is so relatable, so beautiful. I needed to read this. And maybe someday, when that baby is older, she'll need it too. I love reading your words, friend.