Mar. 5th, 2014

Black tea with milk and sugar. The sounds of play dough being played with (clicks, clacks, and self-talk) coming from the next room.

I sit at the table, round, wooden, with a claw-foot pedestal, thinking about who I am. There is always the list method, narrowing myself into bullet points. Or the quoting others method, using words that sing of my heart. Or the rambling monologue method… I think that’s the one I’ll use.

I’m nearly 39 years old, married, homeowner, mother of one. We have two cats and I hope to get a fish that I can keep alive at some point. Once and future special education teacher; in other words, I taught for a decade and will return to it (barring unforeseen circumstances) once my son is in school. I’m a transplant where I live, from lower-upstate New York to Silicon Valley, California. And while I’m not happy about the drought, I’m sure glad I wasn’t living in NY this winter.

I believe in the Oxford comma and still put two spaces between sentences by sheer force of muscle memory.

I believe in the power of poetry. I’m sure you will see some from me this season as you did in the mini-seasons. It’s what I do, after all.

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