Memory Brushes the Same Years
How it was.
Like every writer, I've had moments where I've thought, why the hell do I do this? Where is this going? Why can't I get this memoir written? Who the hell even reads this anyway? What's my purpose?
Well, this morning something sort of amazing happened to make me realize (which I already know, but sometimes it's good to be reminded) why I write.
In April 20…