I remember reading an interview with this playwright I admired, years ago, when he was asked for any advice he had for young writers her said ‘step one: marry my wife.’ And I think about that a lot, how marrying the exact right person can actually be the thing that makes you good at what you do. I remember reading that sentence and hoping that I could say the same someday about my husband, and where is he, am I standing next to him on the train, is he in my past somewhere, is he in Brooklyn, SPOILER HE WAS NOT. I had to leave New York to find him, and he’s being keeping me honest, holding me to standards, making me a better me, supporting me endlessly and calling me on my bullshit ever since. The fact that he also makes our children weird little faces with the dinner every night is just bonus, if not the actual best part.