January 2008 Archives
Soul-sisters, we met at a perfect time, and still adorn each other. You're my favorite grill, and I can't do a fake-Russian accent without thinking of you. Artist, dancer, mama, equestrienne, Ranch Girl.
In my third-grade class, with an L shaped scar on your chin. When you moved away, I gave you a toilet-paper doll in a Sucrets box and you tossed it away - my treasure.
You flashed me once as I waved to you from a second-story window. Pregnant for the third time, you decided to embrace home birth and all that went with it. You're a doula now.