Fantastical Fundraising

I used to fantasize that I would wake up one day to find a huge, red-and-gold dragon hovering above in the bright blue sky, glittering in the sun, undulating wildly and breathing fire. That's it. Just hanging out, inexplicably.

I was in my 20s, with an infant and two jobs, dealing with a touch of postpartum depression, an exhausting, ill-fated marriage, a dying mother, and a father who had just lost his eyesight. Seemingly overnight I had stepped out of my role as an aggressive young reporter drinking whiskey from a flask in my desk drawer on deadline and running with the cool crowd and into that of a full-time caregiver three times over and part-time punching bag.