I was so wrong. I regret my lack of understanding and effort in beginning on the ‘open roads’. They were my roads. And yes, others were on the same road. They too began where I began, travelling, lookinf for their one road. All of our roads began as one.
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.
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.
A creative path might not be the smooth ease of calm, expressive seas nor the decorated, celebrated angst of artistry…
I blame my mother. And Kevin… And perhaps I have even learned to laugh at myself a bit.