She Is Inhumanly Alone. And Then, All

Some Of Us Know How We Came By Our Fortune And Some Of Us Don't; But We Wear It All The Same

Alice Wonders If Other Women In The Middle Of The Night Have Begun To Resent Their Formica.

A Woman Knows She Can Walk Away From A Pot To Tend Something Else And The Pot Will Go On Boiling; If She Couldn't This World Would End At Once.

I Don't Know What Rituals My Kids Will Carry Into Adulthood, Whether They'll Grow Up Attached To Homemade Pizza On Friday Nights, Or The Scent Of Peppers Roasting Over A Fire, Or What. I Do Know That Flavors Work Their Own Ways Under The Skin, Into The Heart Of Longing. Where My Kids Are Concerned I Find Myself Hoping For The Simplest Things: That If Someday They Crave Orchards Where Their Kids Can Climb Into The Branches And Steal Apples, The World Will Have Trees Enough With Arms To Receive Them.

Don't Wait For The Muse. She Has A Lousy Work Ethic. Writers Just Write.