spring ahead

I wasn’t going to post anything, and then I was, and then I wasn’t again. And now I am. There’s not much for me to report. I’m writing quite a bit in my paper journal. Yesterday, my dad and I sat down with a stack of old photo albums and I saw myself as I was just-born, 1, 2, 3 years old and up to 11. That year, the year my parents split, the year so many times I wished had never happened, and yet in all those pictures I was so happy and smiling. Sucking it up, or blissfully ignorant? I waited for some baby drive to jump-start as I looked at all the pictures, all the people making such a fuss over bald, frowny baby-me. Nothing. Maybe I am indeed broken. I will let the parentals down, again. This is how this version goes. While it is...