Putting words together feels like connecting dots.  As I link words and phrases, the shape of an idea forms in the same way my five-year-old hand revealed a previously unseen image simply by connecting numbers. I love the feeling of wonder that comes after the last dot is connected: “Well, look what just took shape. Did I do that?”

I am a sequential thinker in love with non-sequential ideas. My affinity for paradoxical thinking is probably why I am amused by a fountain in the rain and the brilliant whiteness of a nighttime snowfall. My oldest son lives a paradoxical existence: Birth defects define everything and nothing about his life. When I grow up, I want to be like him. My youngest son shows me who I might have become had I been born male, and my husband, Mark, has taught me what it means to share life with a soul mate who questions all things, including the human soul.