It's back to school week at my house, for my youngest daughter at least. Yesterday was the first day of her last year. Her senior year.
My baby. A senior.
Gosh, it seems like only yesterday she was going off to kindergarten...my little fledgling in a pink dress (all she would wear were dresses that year). I remember her last day of kindergarten. After the bus pulled away I looked up at the bird nest in the porch lamp I'd been keping an eye on. The baby birds had started to fly that very morning. [Does anyone else hear Bette Midler singing, or is that just me?]
Okay, I'm getting pretty sappy here. I made cookies for her first day, as usual, but I needed them more than she did.
In other school news:
Next month I start a new class, on the Tudors. And I signed up for an online class, about researching history for fiction. I've never been interested in writing historical fiction—I tell people my imagination doesn't work in past tense, but lately I've been thinking I should take advantage of the opportunities for research that are literally in my back yard. Well, not literally, but I only have to walk a few blocks to be in an Iron Age hillfort. Or a few more to be at the home of John Milton. And a few more will take me to the home of Ozzy Osbourne, another famous historical figure.
Of course maybe now would be a good time to finish that rock star romance I started writing ages ago...the same year she started preschool, in fact.
Excuse me. I need to go have a good cry.
