The Write Stuff Granddaughter writes her nameon library craft box of crayons.It leads to memory-drawn convobetween her mother and I,sharing how our journeys began. Mine that of plastic pen, metal nib,and well of ink, scratches betweenlines of news-stock, bland paper. She, with ball-point on smoothwhite, had trouble with cursivecapitals “G” and “F.” Letters became words;…