Nothing processed, no matter how many conversations we had at the hospital. Confusion made for a long ride home. I don’t remember walking through the front door.

I only remember when Lindsey saw the unopened gifts from the shower scattered on the nursery floor. That’s when she began to cry.

Chad Benjamin Smith never met a word that didn’t deserve writing. Perhaps that cheapened his work. He is a watcher. When that’s not enough, he’s a doer. He was born in a hospital and lives in a house. He goes to work and doesn’t write about it (except for just now). In addition to writing 50-word stories, he writes amazing third person bios.