The minute I saw your name on that piece, I thought, “Of course!” because there, in many ways, are you!

There is a great museum and store downtown, MexiArt. Years ago they had a wonderful show of her work. It was then a tiny, tiny place but we went twice. There was so much to see I’m her art. Not long after we went to D.C. because George had business there. They had a huge exhibit of her work and Diego’s with an emphasis on his murals.

I love her, too.

And Flannery had Lupus, so duh! Like most people with chronic disease, mine was hard to diagnose. When Flannery’s letters were published in 84, 85 and I began reading them, I knew I had Lupus. They had called it “undifferentiated inflammatory autoimmune response” for years. I do not have kidney involvement as she did but reading her disappointment in having to cancel plans and reading how her body felt, how it betrayed her, I “just” knew. She died in her mid-40s but I, making a totally unfounded projection, decided that if she could write as beautifully as she did while feeling like a pile of poop, I could, too. Uh-huh. Of course, I could never write as she wrote. I mean, I would love to pull stories out of life as she did, create characters that everyone knows and real life endings that should surprise no one but surprise us all. But I probably won’t. I will write as I write which is as it should be.

But isn’t it nice having someone to have such amazing muses?