October 11, 2017

I’ve always loved to write…and of course read.

In black and white, clarity is found. Vocalized, the same words blend into the hum of white noise we surround ourselves in. I love you blends into the dishwasher’s rinse cycle, while the turning point in your loved one’s day mixes with road noise as the car races home.

I’ve always been baffled how words can fall free and fluid from my fingertips, but strangle in my throat. I’ve learned to write letters to win arguments, tell my children how much they mean to me, and communicate with friends. I leave post-it notes everywhere, even in the bathroom, and countless journals fill my bookshelves.

Over the years, I’ve left quite a paper trail.

This morning I cracked a new spine and smelled the blank first page, holding a sharpened Ticonderoga … I couldn’t help but smile.