Moved by words on a page
We picked our little girl up from camp tonight. The bright pink cast made her easy to spot in the midst of so many children.
On the ride home she told us about a cool swamp walk that smelled worst than toilet water. She also shared stories of talent night and a counselor that made rules like “no farting on the tarp”.
She even told of the morning she was moved to tears reading one of the letters Erika and I had pre-written and stuffed in her suitcase. When we asked who wrote the letter, mom or dad, we found out it was me.
If only a editor could be similarly moved by my submissions for publication.
