Four years ago, I was preparing to get married. Mother’s Day passed, and I could not even call my mother because she could not speak on the phone. Most normal people would have invested in an organizer or hired a wedding planner or upped their antidepressants during this time. Not me.
I decided to start a blog. A few months after starting this blog, I started The Fucker. Coincidence? I don’t think so. The poet learned that she could write to the right-hand side of the page. So here I am today, stealing an hour, maybe even two, from my editorial work today to write.
Where were you four years ago?