I have been musing lately on the kinds of displacement we experience in our lives (physical, cultural, emotional) and how to make sense of them. I started my first journal when I was 8 but was an inconsistent writer even when I was teaching consistency to high school writers. With the birth of my second child, I found I could no longer ignore the need for a creative outlet in my life. Washing dirty socks just wasn’t cutting it. Here is my beginning.