File this under "meaning to". Also filed under "but didn't".
"I don't want people to say I'm beautiful."
I need to do mess better.
There is freedom in being a complete beginner and in saying I have no idea what I'm doing.
Today, I let her win.
"I don't want to play with you." And there it is. Her unexpressed anger and sadness. In my head, I understand it; in my heart, it's a knife, twisted.
"Is it three weeks yet?" I'd told her that Baby Brother was coming in three weeks, three weeks ago. He was due. He was overdue.
There are sentences I know I would never, could never, write. Reading high-end shelter mags, feeling twangs of pen envy.