🐚 You’re allowed to want something.

View from KittyAnn’s Window

I stare down into the glass case. My mouth is watering, and here it is again: the familiar dilemma. The strudel is tart, apples squishing out from flaky crust, slipping around your teeth. The powdered sugar dissolves instantly, melting into a glaze on your tongue, fruity brightness bursting when you catch a raisin.

But the croissant is a different kind of religion – a full-fat dream of dangerous butter, Swiss cheese hot enough to melt off all your tastebuds in one go, and one thick slice of smoky pink ham, just salty enough to make you forget that even though you’re only forty you have to take blood pressure medicine.

I could get both.

No one would judge me.

Except me.

But it’s a special day, I tell myself. The first day back in twenty years. You’re allowed to want something, KittyAnn. 

And you’re allowed to have it. 

All of it.

***

Meet KittyAnn. She’s the protagonist of the novel I’ve been writing – off an on, at night after my kids are in bed, in the margins of other things. 

Lately, she’s been getting louder.

My fire is shifting. I’m tired of working so left-brained to explain things at face value. I want to play with story. So I’m going to.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll be dropping vignettes in her voice – partly because she wants to be heard, and partly because I do.

Stay close. There’s more coming.

With all my wild heart,

Sadie xo

P.S. If something I said resonated — and you’re craving a space to unpack your own story — get in touch with me. I’d be honored to hold that space for you.