I have a survivor story to share with you, but I have not really done so with a full head of steam. Any less an effort is not my best. I am absolutely scared to evolve…of breaking the thread between the past and the now. Yet, I must.
As I talked, I still felt a bit like the observer, documenting myself and my actions while reminding myself to speak not as a victim but as a proud woman and graceful lady.
I would write a beautiful book, a beautiful story… But it may not be pretty….
Now the pre-dawn glow of Christmas tree lights and lazy embers from the fire nudged me awake, gently reminding me that I had no pressure of a day’s schedule.
The beginnings of flight are incredibly awkward-looking…
..their forces collide continuously..it is a sound unexpectedly raw…
I blame my mother. And Kevin… And perhaps I have even learned to laugh at myself a bit.
April 20, 2019 For the umteenth time, I started writing my book. Two days ago I began, my session… Read more The Fifty-Ninth Word
March 28, 2019 I hadn’t been certain ‘vayomer eliohim’ were even proper words. Until three days ago I had been… Read more Vayomer Eliohim
January 27, 2019 The winter romances a person. “Just for a bit, just a little,” begs January with the… Read more Liebe, Liebchen. Freizeit.