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A year and a half ago, my life was a bit upside down. I was separated and a month away from filing for divorce. I didn’t have much of an income. I was 40 and living at my mom’s. I was feeling like a big loser. Amidst all the turmoil, I had hope. The kind of hope that annoyingly bubbles up even when your grumpy self wishes you could kill it with a shotgun and hide the remains in the big box with all your other broken dreams, like being the first woman in space. (Damn you, Sally Ride!)
That nagging hope sent me on a detour one day.
Read more at Sugar in the Raw.