I spent the better part of my high school career rewriting papers and being informed that my linguistic skills needed help. Then in college, a professor who was creepy but supportive suggested I become a writer. I did, in my dreams. As I write this, I am sitting on the deck of my Nantucket summer house typing away on my super light laptop. My golden retriever dog that miraculously doesn't shed is lying at my feet and a little puddle has formed at the base of my perpetually chilled glass of mint iced tea. Ah to be a dreamer.

From the little bumps in the road (like learning to sweat like a lady) to the gaping potholes (of a sick parent), life goes on...I think.