The Importance of Small Moments

I didn’t know how the years ahead would play out. That the Gulf war was just a preamble. That my friend’s five-year-old would commit suicide before his twenty-second birthday. That I wouldn’t study music or social work; instead, I would begin to write. I didn’t know the pervasive sadness — the black well of depression — that would swallow me during that coming decade. I didn’t know that I would flounder over another friend’s suicide, that I would feel so stymied about love, so disappointed, that I wouldn’t truly allow it into my life until after I turned 40.

I was 30 when I left New York. I thought I knew where I was headed. I thought the road before me was clear — unencumbered. I was wrong. … More The Importance of Small Moments