“I stood on the street corner, holding a red balloon. I’m not sure how long I stood there, but long enough for a man in a passing car to yell, “Are you ok?” as he sat at the adjacent red light. I guess it’s not every day you see a grown woman standing on the side of the road, staring at a balloon as it is were an oracle. I wanted to shout back, “Excuse me, sir, but this balloon has the answer to the rest of my life!”.

“There is something excruciating about the rare experience of a bachelorette party when you’re in your mid-thirties. Gone are the days of putting on your slinkiest dress and a sash that says “Bachelorette Party” (but that means “Buy me a drink, I’m not the one getting married and I am using all of my mental faculties not to think about that”), going bar-hopping while cute guys buy you blow job shots, and dancing until dawn.”

“When the quarantine began in Colorado, I forced myself to find one small silver lining—now I would have time to take a memoir and essay writing class that I’d been wanting to take for years.

I work as a playwright and director in theater, and usually rehearsals and performances keep me busy. Now, of course, theater is shut down. My life as I have known it—just like everyone else’s—is shut down. It seems like my industry might be one of the last to return.

I’ve been looking for joy wherever I can find it…and I’ve found it in a surprising turn of events in this writing class.”