My crew

My son thinks that I will be miserable within a year if I go back into an office. He says that I have created a good life for myself as a self-employed writer and editor and that I should trust it, and myself. My daughter told me over dinner a week ago that she and her brother were talking about me and saying how much they admired the way I had put my independent work life together, and that I impressed "the heck out of" them with the fact that I was actually doing it, making a living as a writer. My son would probably never think to tell me about this conversation but he did sit me down to give me the hard loving truth as he saw it about my flirtation with an office job at a publishing house, and between the two of them, my heart is full to overflowing.

My son and daughter and niece and their respective significant others are coming over today for brunch. The man is in the kitchen cooking up ackee and saltfish, and making deviled eggs, and various other snacks on snacks on snacks, and I will make scrambled eggs and bacon for the ones who don't like ackee and saltfish, and I already made a batch of virtuous coconut macaroons, and my daughter says she'll make the Johnny cakes using my mother's delicious recipe (as published in a famous book of Caribbean cooking), and my man will also make passion fruit bellinis, and could the anticipation of this day be any more fun? I will try to take pictures—although I find these days that I often choose just to be in the moment.