Most days, she grabs the bag before leaving the house.  Notebook, pens, colored pencils, glue stick, and scissors tucked neatly inside.  Some days she leaves it in the car overnight, only to find herself shuffling out to the garage in the early morning cold.  She can’t write if she doesn’t have the tools.  But these last few weeks, the bag sits on the bench by the door, neglected but not forgotten.  She knows that if she waits for the right time, it will only get harder.  So once again, she picks up the bag as she heads for the door.  There is a story out there today and she won’t let it get away.