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January 4, 2003
I’m in love with him, Mom, she said. You’re in love with the idea of him, answered Mom. Well, I guess I’ll find out, she replied. And what an idea he turned out to be – possibility upon possibility, promise upon promise. She created a steed in the image of her need, then rode it at a gallop for more than a year, through a spirit-soaring, soul-restoring, anything-but-boring landscape of unreality. Later, she cried blaming flaming disclaiming dream-smashed heart-stomped tears, but came to nurse her saddle sores without regret, grateful for the ride that had released her poetry and her power.