I went to AWP for the first time, which was both spectacular and overwhelming, as everyone said it would be. Ryan lost his last grandparent around the same time, so he couldn't accompany me to Chicago, and I had the king-size bed to myself, ordered room service and read from the massive stack of books on poetry I collected at the book fair. I saw Carolyn Forche again, and she called me "my Molly," which had me glowing for some time, I ate edamame for the first time, and I love the sounds of night in the hear of the city.
I also had a poetry reading of my own in a Barnes and Noble with Greg Watson, whose book had just been released.
We brewed beer and took hikes up Memorial Bluff in the snow. I fell in love with Leisel Mueller's work. We kept warm beneath down blankets.
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