The Truth About Words and Babies
I remember the day I said it, “I don’t want her life! She’s a slave to her husband. A slave to everyone. I’ll never live like my grandma!” I was sixteen years old, jetting around in my little, ice-blue Toyota Celica with a sunroof that blew my red hair around. Listening to Journey and Bon Jovi and Livin’ On A Prayer. And living for me. Only me. Just me. I read historical romance novels until 2 a.m., “torch books” my dad called them. Got mostly A’s in school without much studying, cruised with my girlfriends on Friday and Saturday nights in […]