Before I ever considered telling a journal about my innermost thoughts and feelings, I was using composition books for a separate type of writing: fiction. Continue reading
Tonight, I opened my giant chest of Legos and built things.
I was in the bin of plastic bricks, my face inches away from those tiny little choking hazards that were my childhood, hearing the roar of a plastic ocean as I pushed wave after wave away from my face, looking for that one exact piece.
It was so much fun.