As the upcoming writing retreat steadily approaches, I’m preoccupied with the drive to get there—the ride alone, time on the open road, snaking New England highway, cloaked in winter. Just me, my radio music, my thoughts. That’s only the beginning, but much as I strain, I struggle to see beyond that. What I know is that seven women from …
I had just returned to work from maternity leave. My baby was six months old, his older brother just over two. I was taking a much-needed break from contentious negotiations to eat with my colleagues-turned-friends in the law firm cafeteria–until a senior partner crashed our lunch. With the manufactured confidence of a corporate lawyer, he …
Dina L. Relles 