I am watching it snow, thinking of Florida.
Where tomorrow, I become a part of the greater writing community. Greater than this intimate writing group I host. Greater than this local MFA program I am a part of.
I am going to AWP, which is an annual conference where writers and editors and publishers convene and discuss books and how to create them.
On my thirty-fifth birthday, I will be surrounded by the kind of people who get me best, the kind of people who I understand most. Me and my tribe. My giant tribe of us who live in the bigger world and try to make sense of it with words.
I’m putting away my snow boots, packing shorts instead. It took a long time to get here, but at the end of all that, I found I am not alone.