Thursday, September 07, 2006

end of the summer

Every year, a chance to give someone the experience I never had, a classroom where we read women and minority and young writers, where you can write and cuss and call me by my first name.

I sit in a cafĂ© and wait, and the baby in the stroller across from me lifts his bottle and I lift my coffee and we toast, me and a baby. It’s almost as good, except it’s better. Happy fall. Welcome home.