Two of my kids suffered a tragedy that changed my life. I wrote a horrible poem and a couple of songs about it that never saw the light of day.
Over a decade later, while teaching a memoir unit, I wrote a longer work about it— the first piece of prose I had written since high school. Over the next few years it saw many revisions, many suggested revisions from journal editors, many night thinking.
It’s a story I read every year in my classes. I think I’ve not cried when reading it once.
I am proud to have “Out of my Hands” appearing within the pages of Zone 3.
