Some stories begin long before we ever put words on the page.
Maybe in a cold hospital room with a boy who couldn’t measure up to his father and didn’t know how to survive the ache.

And we don’t have to work so hard to be okay.

I was electrocuted twice as a child. The first time was with my 80-year-old great-grandmother. That was bad. But the one that stands out most in my mind was the other one.