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I am Meredith.  Way back in 1982 my boyfriend asked me to write a magnum opus on love. I did, and shortly afterwards we broke up. I can’t remember what that piece said, and I often wonder if he kept it all these years. I wish I could read it again, just to see how sappy and in love I was.

Now, thirty years later, I’m writing another magnum opus (which contradicts the official definition of magnum opus) in the form of many small opi. Opuses? I have no expectations and neither should you.  Plus, hardly any of this has to do with love.  And despite the hoards of mommies who will flock to this blog because of its address (babyheartbeat) it has nothing to do with babies or heartbeats of babies or mommies of babies.  The web address is named for The Suburbs’ song Baby Heartbeat.

I’m opening this blog on March 10, 2013, the fifty-fourth birthday of Mr. B., the one who made me write a magnum opus in the first place. Here’s to you, Mr. B., I’m glad I had you when I did because I’ve heard your physique has pretty much gone to hell by now. Someone said you resemble Henry VIII. Yikes.

The End


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