This Tuesday, my daughter will start high school.

This is a huge milestone for us for all the normal reasons. Somehow, the baby that had to be vacuumed from me is making jokes about the Epstein list and giving me the finger. She’s almost as tall as me.

She’s exchanged pull-up diapers for pull-ups on the bar. She’s just two months away from getting her school permit. And already her days are filled with practices and activities that have nothing to do with me. So much of her life these days is not for me to write about. It’s her life and her journey, and I am so lucky I get to tag along.

In so many ways, I became a writer because of my kids. I had been writing for years before they were born. I’d been working for different websites for years and went to graduate school all in the years before she was born. But I found my voice when I had my kids. I am not saying this is necessary for all writers. I am saying, for me, having my daughter fundamentally changed something in me. I think it made me hungrier and sharpened my sense of purpose.

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