part of a card my mom made for her mom--these are four calling birds and my mom is the bird with blue eyes

A huge pile of my own fiction sits a few inches away from me. Rows of fiction actually published sits all around me. And I can’t think of one worthwhile thing to say.

Nonetheless, whatever you celebrate, may your celebration–quiet and alone or crowded and loud or somewhere in-between–be bright.

2 thoughts on “Calling…

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