Sometimes when I publish something here, or read one of your essays, or scroll through notes, tapping that heart button with wild abandon, I think about little me, sitting in my childhood bedroom, surrounded by notebooks and paper and pencils and books…reading and writing. It’s all I ever wanted to do. And here I am, at 45 building that reading and writing life I dreamt of as a child.

Cheers to everyone who also recognizes your inner child here, (finally) building your writing world you always hoped for.