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Finding Christmas

I wish sometimes that this could be Christmas. Quiet mornings, in the glow of lights, and not a build-up to another early morning of opening gifts.
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Quiet Moments of Success

I usually allow moments like this to pass. I believe that if I give them attention, I might jinx them in some way.
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pour qui

Every word and thought and event seems to shape itself into a beginning middle and end in a perfect 800-word format that I can send off in a pitch.
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The Lonely Times

A dog who panics when you leave doesn’t need less love, she needs more.
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Writing Out of Poverty. Literally.

Without the degree, though, I don’t think I would have stopped cleaning houses. I don’t think I would have thought myself on the same level as the people whose houses I cleaned.
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Finding your Inner Mr. Rogers

Watching the episodes Netflix chose to release, especially the one with the crayon factory, was to sit as a child again, remembering my small frame and long hair, listening intently to the nice man telling me I mattered because I was me and nobody else was.
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Say "Bye-Bye"

"I'm sorry you got so mad you couldn't buy me ice cream bars," she said.
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The Vulnerability of a Single Mom Toting Two

I’d never thought about the what-if scenarios of my death. Mia’s a badass kid. She’s resilient. I think she can make it through just about anything.