“Our lives seem so romantic in your writing,” a friend told me recently. “I was there for so much of what you write about, but we experience things so differently. You always find a big lesson in everything, or some sort of magic.”
I’ll write about it, I thought.
And looking hard enough, I find, there are always fireflies and the fluttering of bats. Lights in the trees. Reasons to howl at the moon.