Writing With My English 101 Class

I wrote with my English 101 class last night and a woman in the class shared about her dead son. It was amazing to see someone so vulnerable. First class, first free write—she slits her wrist and bleeds for 26 strangers to watch. When I saw this, I was amazed. Her freedom empowered me. I was renewed, re-energized, ready to write about myself. Not teacher me, not friend me, but me in the purest sense of the word. I was ready to write about the 16 year old me that lost his older brother and held his hand as he breathed his last breath. About the me that sat with my wife as we found out that we lost our first child before it was born. Willing to open up. Willing to be honest. Willing to share.

I'm not sure what it all means, but I had to write about it.