Lily, born today and growing up in that little house in West Seattle behind the Sub Shop #9 and the corner bar we never once visited, Chuck and Sally’s.
The seam between winter and spring.
The awareness of how different it is here than in my neighborhood in the suburbs.
It’s a game where there is no winning, only the joy in the odd and unexplained.
Maybe the art was in the refashioning of otherwise useless things.
That was the first time I realized that just because you put something in print doesn’t make it any better than it was from the start.
I started to learn that to write is to live, and you can’t do much of the former without the latter.