Do you believe in signs?
Of all the people in NYC, Sam Heughan passed me on the street last Thursday morning. Like, right in front of my face.
Seriously though, what is the Universe trying to tell me?! (If you’re new here, this will make a lot more sense if you read the postscripts from two of my earlier essays here and here.)
Should I be booking a flight to Scotland to write the next Eat Pray Love/Wild?
Oh right. Elizabeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed didn’t have kids to stash somewhere when they took off. New plan. But until I figure it out…
Here I am.
I haven’t been here in awhile. (If you’re a paid subscriber, thank you so much for sticking around! If you’re not, you can access paid posts by clicking the button below.)
My main excuse is that writing is one of those practices that (for me, at least) requires time and space to flourish—and the final weeks of summer, especially as a solo parent, are not exactly conducive to time and space.
But school is back in session and I am officially celebrating la rentrée. I love settling into a routine, even if it is a bit rough around edges (I’m not a terribly disciplined person and I don’t sleep a lot in general—see the below for what I do when I can’t sleep).
So, here I am (on a Monday. Weird, I know. I promise to keep it to Fridays or weekends from now on) and yet…
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