Fifty-something years have escaped me, and I’m still not sure who I am yet. I was one of those little girls who grew up believing in fairy tales and knights in shining armor and that love, surely, would be delivered directly to me in a pink box with a big red bow.

So far, I’ve been woefully disappointed.

In an effort to be better, to do better, I write. I share what happens in my head and heart and hope that one day I’ll figure it out – or at the very least help someone else figure out sooner than me.

Because love, as I understand it, is what we’re here for. And if that’s the case, I feel like we better all figure out what exactly that is before our time is up.