This is explains true love so well. So eloquently said Ihsan.
Amy is an amazing flower photographer. She’s also inspiring with her words. Her work should be everywhere! ~ Namaste Amy
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So, I’m cheating on Wordless Wednesday
because aren’t these little piggies the cutest?
** These pictures were taken on the Boise Green Belt while on a walk with a friend. Awe inspiring. Other adventures are HERE.
I used to think I was a writer. I told myself I was because I wrote lots of journals when I was younger and tons of essays for college, threw down an occasional poem, wrote some cards and letters…but that was a lie.
BUT, you’re not a writer until you are engulfed in a world you can’t possibly have until you think eat and breathe writing…when you ache to get the beasts out of you…until you wrangle with demons and journey and blockades you know nothing about and you begin to conquer them. that is when you begin to be a writer.
A writer is a witness to life and beauty and heartache and a gamut of emotions.
A writer is tortured with a myriad of emotions that HAVE to get out.
A writer experiences the desert…a time when the life of words does not exist and the land all around is barren.
I imagine that even now going through what I have this past year with my writing , one might still say I am not a writer…but I am beginning to understand the world of writing. I am ready to be a witness to testify to the beauty and lessons learned…and to experience the greatest heartache when the words don’t come…to know that even one word has healed.
TELL ME: What have you witnessed? What are YOU writing? I’d love to know your adventures.
It was a beautiful day yesterday. I found my daddy. I got to play on the phone with him for a whole hour, and it was breathtakingly beautiful. I revel in these moments because sometimes they are few and far between. He played in his childhood and I got to watch in my mind’s eye a glimpse of his happiness after eight days of darkness. He told me of his journey in finding and loving words (another wonderful story for a future post.) I marvel at how dad’s love of words and learning was passed down to each of us kids. He wrote poetry and did crosswords and memorized most every word in the dictionary. As he talked of his journey, I heard his voice dance. His love of words as he spoke so remarkably evident. Now, I know where my love for words sprouted because the seed was planted.
We did not linger here. Our journey took us many places. That’s the beauty and the tragedy of Alzheimer’s. You never know where it will take you. Sometimes you wait with baited breath for stories to go deeper and sometimes you wait for fearful stories to end. But each path is honored and each journey a memory to be treasured. Because remember, once this was a vaulted man who talked only of the weather. And now…now in this moment he was telling me what mattered to him in life and he didn’t rush to get off the phone. Good morning daddy and thanks for beginning the day with me. It was a most wonder-mous day to begin with you.
Many people criticize for showing this journey publicly….but if for one minute I can give hope to others who are on this same difficult journey, then I will take all the criticism given. Because when things get really really tough, and it seems like there’s no light in the darkness, then sometimes…sometimes…there’s a flood of light that allows you to see more than you ever saw before. I hope to not only shed some light, but maybe some pathways to find the light. For there is beauty in Alzheimer’s as there is in every tragic event that shapes our lives. For all it’s ugliness, it teaches us to appreciate that loved one and hold on fastly to those moments we have with them.
We are human, and in this humanness there is two sides. Sometimes we only see and feel one side. It’s nice sometimes to see and feel what it’s like on the other side. Good morning daddy and thanks for allowing me to share you with the world.
Writing Wings For You 
