by Angel Haggar

It is Spring 2015. I’m in my ninth year of being knee-deep in babies and diapers. It’s the life I always wanted. Well, I cry more than I thought I would, but I’m happy, mostly. I’m too exhausted to remember the life I had imagined before I had a husband, children, a dog, a mortgage, more to do than time to do it, and more month than money. I’m clipping coupons and often failing to keep within my household budget; my husband travels all the time for his job. I rarely have a babysitter. I’m sitting down for a rare moment of quiet, scrolling through Facebook on my phone when I see a post about Dar Williams’ weeklong “Writing a Song that Matters” workshop in Garrison, New York on the Hudson across from West Point. My heart leaps into my throat.