20 years ago: I left Shepherdstown after finishing a single terrible semester at Shepherd University. For years I went back, over and over, just to buy a bag of coffee from Lost Dog.
(I have no photos from Shepherd. You’ll just have to trust me.)
15 years ago: I was in California with a literature class, reading poems in Big Sur, making a lifelong friend while we wandered the streets looking for landmarks from one of the most obnoxious novels ever written.
10 years ago: I finished my MFA. A miracle, considering the number of times I tried to quit.
5 years ago: I was in so much pain—had been in so much pain for most of my life—that I asked a surgeon for a hysterectomy and he looked at me and without hesitation said yes. I was only 34. A door closed, a door opened.
(I do have pictures from the surgery but I won’t be putting those online.)
What’s next?
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