2018 rolled into 2019 without fanfare. I watched the time change from 11:59 to 12:00 on my wristwatch, and John and I wished each other a quiet "Happy New Year." That came after chores. After
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This is me. This is me on an almost 90 degree day, after shearing nine of my llamas over the course of about two hours. This is me sweaty and exhausted. Covered in tiny bits of wool.
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I read a book once that pointed out that life tends to divide itself into befores and afters. It’s true, when you think about it. Some are obvious milestones: Before high school. After high
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I was scrolling through the calendar on my phone, looking for an appointment I couldn't remember making, when I scrolled across a repeating reminder. "Anniversary" It made my stomach drop to be
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My ex didn't want the farm. Actually, he did, until he didn't anymore, but that's a little beside the point. That day last summer, the day that he yelled over the phone that the farm would kill me,
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I pulled the red and white notice off the door of my Heights house with a sigh. We would be fined within days if the lawn continued un-mowed, if the landscaping wasn't trimmed back. The Ex and I
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"No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out