Rummaging through a box with the unhelpful label “keepsakes and misc” I found a file folder stuffed with the poems and sketches I wrote in high school. One piece, a little poem called I Flew Among the Stars stood right there in the middle between overly earnest and interesting. I read. I smiled. I took a nap.
That’s when Imogen arrived. I started writing, navigating the layers of shared and disparate memories between mothers and daughters, friends and lovers. The layers become a story. The story became a novel, Decoupage.