Excerpt

I think life is made up of moments. The mundane tasks of everyday life like grocery shopping, showering and housecleaning are swallowed up and melted together into a hazy memory. It’s the moments, whether good or bad, that stand out, that when pieced together one after the other, make up our existence. Sometimes, when I’m feeling sorry for myself, I think that maybe the bad moments of my life have been more frequent than the good moments. Or do bad memories only stand out more?
 
Whether it was the first time (and every other time after) I was called scar face, meeting Shelley, or accepting the Pulitzer, my life has been full of moments -- learning experiences as Grandma calls them. If I’m honest with myself, the good far outnumber the bad. I’m truly blessed.

Maybe moments should have a capital ‘M.’ Moments. That’s better.