A Year as Measure

Watching salmon is hypnotic. You should seriously try it sometime. Everything else becomes small and not as important.

A year ago Stevie and I were on our way to Washington, dog in tow, making the long, cold journey home for Thanksgiving to see my family and scrape up oysters from Uncle Seamus' beach. We hiked up Lilliwaup Creek with Amanda and all the kids and watched salmon fight their way home to spawn.

This year we have two dogs, and we'll have a small TG with our neighbors and a couple friends here at home. Where there are palm trees and its 80 degrees outside. And I will cry slow, soft tears of missing my family.

A year ago I had just finished my adoption profile. My brand was along the lines of "even though I am single, I have an amazing network of friends and family. And even though I live in a simple apartment, I am big-hearted and creative and me and the child you give birth to will have a rich and beautiful life together."

This year, Steve and I have created a profile together. Our brand is and better, stronger than mine alone like we don't have to convince someone so hard how lovely their child's life will be with us as parents. Because it will be, and they will know it when they meet us.

A year ago I hadn't started on my book.

This year, I haven't started on my book. But I'm gonna.