We weave through the back country roads, piled high with new pristine snow, all sharp corners.
We drop off K at the University for work, and pull out onto the road.
"Mira often thought...", I hear inside my head. It seems my brain is in the mood to write some of the novel.
Speaking into Siri, I laugh. thinking about how similar brains writing things on their own-comes on like your kid, waking in the morning for school , you sitting on their bed.
How they begin immediately recounting the dream they just left behind, rubbing their sleep creased eyes. gazing at you . .
That's what it's like, that moment when something inside of me is piqued,
begins continuing the story we are writing.
Good morning! Surprise. Are you ready? Here we go.
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