I’m sitting in the RV – on the air mattress in the master bedroom, wearing an Aeropostale sweatshirt. My unwashed hair is pulled back in a ponytail.
The flimsy accordion door doesn’t mask the sound of Tim in the main room, reading “The Three Bears” to two wiggly girls.
Now, he is calling out in mock despair, “I’m getting squished by two princesses!” They are giggling (the girls; not Tim – he would want me to clarify that).
I can’t write. Not here. Not now. With so many distractions…that I want to be a part of.