For over seven years, I’ve lived with small dread of accidentally writing the wrong name in an Anne Nahm email. Many of the comments came in last week with my real name written in them. Opening each and every one was like that dream where you fall, flailing armed and
. . Barbie’s drunk. REF:
I didn’t see or talk to anyone in my family Thanksgiving day. I couldn’t find it in myself to be the bigger person and call: Hey sorry I hand-grenaded your holiday plans! Let me call and bask in how not-family it was for you. When no one called me, I
Don’t you ever say I forgot the J. I will always want to. . . PS: Thank you for all the wisdom and kindness last post.