Watch out. She’s writing again.

I finally, for the first time in well over a month, have time and space to write. It feels amazing. And yet, I sit here and struggle to think of some topic worthy of committing to paper. Or screen, rather.

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90

We celebrated M’s grandmother’s (Zoe’s great-grandmother’s) 90th birthday tonight. I sat across a big table made up of a bunch of smaller tables from her and watched as her family here in St. Louis surrounded her both physically and emotionally with love, and saw how her family scattered across the country celebrated on Facebook. The woman is beloved.

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The only answer is LOVE

This has been a rough week. M left for London on Tuesday, and I started missing him before he even left for the airport. Zoe had a minor kerfluffle with a boy at school that I had to straighten out that day, too. The dining hall was supposed to serve patty melts on Thursday, but our chef forgot to order Texas toast and so he substituted hamburgers. (Yes, I know: first world problems. I get it. But when a girl is counting on her patty melt, dangit…)

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