I sit for a moment in the sun, breathing its warmth into the corners of my lungs. It was a good, hard three hours, and I'm ecstatic, filthy and exhausted. It's planting season, and the next six months hold mysteries I haven't even contemplated. But what will come will be managed.
It no longer matters what my life would have been like with my parents' involvement. My "mistakes", in their eyes, comprised my life choices, and I'm where and who I am now because of those choices.
Trump is a symptom of this infection rampaging through our national biology, a boil on the ass of our humanity. He needs to be cauterized.
We have the gift of foresight borne from hindsight, so we'd be wise to use it.
There is so much that this disproportionately stressful year that has changed, and I'm not sure it will ever go back to the way it was.
Meg Currell 