Around my birthday I often think about why I started this blog.
I was in a car this week with 5 women. Two of us named Nancy.
Hey Nance someone said. I answered only they weren’t speaking to me.
What? Nance was the name my dad invented so he could call me Nancy when he was mad at me.
When my girls were little, I revelled in how they were alike and how they were so different.
When I would take them for shots, one shook with a fear that was deep and phobic while the other loved to watch the needle going into her arm.