Pop Quiz: when is the last time you learned to walk again? This is not a trick question. (Well, maybe it’s slightly tricky, but there’s no wrong answer.) Step. Step. Fall. Stand Up. Step. Fall. Stand Up. Fall. (Perhaps be embraced wildly and celebrated!)
Last week the nine women who will be reading and I got together to plan. One of the things we discussed is vulnerability, the vulnerability of putting one’s voice in the world, of being really visible and heard.
Fifteen years ago, my father had a dream that offered me a different— and life changing —answer to my question. I had already begun to suspect that “No” might not be the only possible reply to this question. Nonetheless, the truth that it’s not all right to feel happy…
Writing, as you may have noticed, makes my heart sing. So does sharing it. Over the past many years, I have submitted my work to dozens and dozens of poetry contests and chapbook competitions (first to those for writers under thirty, then eventually for writers over fifty).
This was the summer I finally was going to get my vegetable garden going again.
I got out soon as the ground could be worked in May to reclaim my 20 x 15-foot patch—beautifully situated in full sun— from the plethora of weeds spreading rampant and happy in the rich earth.
