I called my 90-year-old mom for our weekly chat, and she was reading some letters that I wrote in summer camp when I was 14. She was going on and on about how GREAT A WRITER I was and what a brilliant career I COULD HAVE HAD and I’m like yeah, whatevers.

She saved all that shit, my “honor roll” certificates, my report cards, my essays.

Then my life stopped when I got married.