I spent the morning revising a book I'm writing—finding all those places that cry out for more and developing (so happily) that more. I spent the afternoon reading the last three chapters (Dylan Thomas, Maurice Sendak, James Salter) of Katie Roiphe's magnificent reflections on writers facing their finalities
(The Violet Hour). I spent time in between responding to all those really kind people who wrote to thank me for my essay on building a new life as I leave (for good now) corporate America, in this weekend's
Philadelphia Inquirer. I watched my husband bring his wet clay things to the deck to dry. Physical work. Good work. I got a text from my son.
I walked, and as I walked, I talked to my great, great friend, Debbie Levy, whose
I Dissent: Ruth Bader Ginsburg Makes Her Mark, is about to make
a mega splash in this world.I spend so much of my life worrying the global news and the private uncertainties. Pondering silences and outrage.
But today I lived as people should. Engaged with my world. Happy in the making. Grateful for the people I love.
