Engrossed in a good movie, I didn’t want to leave. I cursed myself for chugging the large coke, waited until a spot in the movie that I could tolerate missing and sprinted to the bathroom. A line greeted me. I smiled at the people in front of me and tried to be patient. I was pretty desperate and didn’t want to miss any more of the film. What was taking so long? I didn’t want to appear pushy. So I waited just a little more.
Read MoreAs a kid, I watched “Field of Dreams” and felt the magic. I saw a man plow his Iowa cornfield to make room for the impossible. As a grown-up writer, the film still resonates. I recently had a dream come true: I signed with an incredible literary agent, Natalie Lakosil of Bradford Literary Agency.
Read MoreAll but the shattered glass was a blur. My morning’s promise of journaling and cozy coffee was replaced with a dangerous mess—a sharp awakening. Unavoidable. My elbow dinged the French press as I grabbed my vitamins. No matter how careful, these fragile coffee makers eventually break. Don’t they?
I pedaled backwards and slid on sandals. I remembered my parents in broken glass situations, their diligence to keep us safe. “We don’t want your little feet anywhere near this until it’s cleaned up.” As kids you are vanquished to the next room. Protected. As the only adult, I handled that morning’s mishap and experienced a mixed moment of remembering and realization.
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