I like to think of writing as a search for things that have been lost, hidden, misplaced, ignored, forgotten, buried, or stashed behind the backyard fence. See there? As soon as I wrote “backyard fence,” I saw an image of the dog-eared fence behind the pink stucco house where I lived as a little girl.
A seminal moment in my life occurred when I was barely three years old. I remember sitting on the kitchen counter, pouring chocolate chips into Mom’s cookie dough. In a nod to our teamwork, my very pregnant mother said, “Two heads are better than one.”
