Do I have another metamorphosis in me?

Joy is sometimes a lot of work. And it won’t cure fevers. It won’t pay for car repairs. 

I refuse to hold onto things for sentimental value. The exception? Any – any – stuffed animal my children have ever loved.

If I squinched up my eyes and tilted my head and really looked at my unshiny life, I could sort of see… glimmering?

Four times in June I planted rows. Four times savage bunnies chewed them to nubs.