Yesterday, I lay on the massage table, having a delicious ‘in the body’ experience (as opposed to an out of body one) that felt heavenly. Why don’t I do this more often, I wondered? And why did it take me so many years to allow myself to have this pleasurable experience?

Somewhere in my mid-forties, I felt a strong (and frightening) urge to leave home. Up till then, I was a true-blue multi-tasker, achievement oriented busy person, running a household, volunteering, chauffeuring kids, and coping with motherhood the best I knew how.

I had started late, by some standards, first baby at 36 after two miscarriages, second one at 38. I was studying part-time, writing a book, and teaching. I got pregnant the year I got accepted into the Masters in English program. Nursing babies at 4 am, with journal open and pen in hand, some of my best poems came out of those years. […]