I was looking through old photographs and happened across this one — winter 2003, the first time I was acknowledged as a professional writer.
When I wrote and thanked them, they were so kind to me.
I was that eight-year-old writer sending little stories to Reader’s Digest and poems to Highlights magazine, the breath sucked out of me by my surprise bravery.
I had such big dreams, validated by my elementary school librarian, who typed up my first, full-length manuscript (at eleven years old) and sent it off to the houses.
I love you, and am so grateful to you, Librarian Anita Mills.
Dreams are so precious (and prescient?) and transcend age and time. Sometimes children know ahead of time what their lives are meant for.
My wish, today, is for ALL children to be seen and heard — for that shine to be kindled by caring others into something lovely that sets the world on fire.
We need more of the lovely. We always, ALWAYS, do.
Why not. ♥️
Lefty In My Write Mind 
