I’m sitting in my mother’s living room, trying to get some work done. It’s hard here. Not just at my mom’s house, but in my small hometown in general. I was born in Tawas City and grew up here. I feel like a kid here, always. I drink my mom’s Diet Cokes without fretting about the aspartame. I roll through stop signs. I nab dog toys from my dad’s vet clinic, and nobody seems to care. Nothing counts here, but in a good way. It’s like the magical protective dome of my childhood is still in tact and waiting to receive me each time I return.