Friends By Chance, Sisters by Choice!

Writing has always been a dream of mine. It was a way for me to escape the madness of the world around me. As a young child, I loved writing stories and news reports. I often narrated those news reports over my mother’s favorite cassette tapes. In the middle of her favorite Joe Cocker song, I would interrupt with Breaking News. She never yelled at me, however I’m sure she had a lot to say behind my back. She still has those tapes tucked away. She has always encouraged me to write and follow my dreams. I’ve had some of the greatest cheerleaders in my life. Encouraging me through school, through every published article and even through the rejection letters. They shared those school papers with everyone. Even the cheesiest articles were praised. As times changed the love shown to me did not, but the way they shared my articles and posts did. Social Media became the new way for them to share my work. They always made sure that people knew I had written a new piece. But now those people are aging or have passed away. My two biggest cheerleaders no longer read my words. They can no longer share my work. One is aging quicker than I ever could have imagined. The other fought ridiculously hard to stay with us, but in the end cancer won. My heart shattered at the loss of my best friend, and maybe someday I will have the courage and strength to write about her. All I know is today is not that day.

So much has changed in such a short time. Somedays I am stuck at the train station, while the world zooms by me. I want to jump on, but I do not know how. I try, but it feels like my feet are cemented to the ground. When I pick up a pencil, or laptop to write nothing comes out. The main people who cared about what I wrote are gone (in one sense or another). Now I wonder if I publish a piece, who would read it. Why would they care what I have to say?

It has been so long since I have written; so long since I have had the energy or motivation. I think daily about writing, then I choose not to or the words do not come to me. I feel as if my writing voice has been stolen from me, and I am not sure how to get it back. Part of me wants to just stop, but a little voice says that people sacrificed to get me here. They didn’t cheer me on and share my work for no reason. They did it because they believed in me, and most importantly they did it out of love. Finding my voice again is not going to be easy, I am going to have to fight my way back. My biggest opponent is myself. I plan on doing my best to chase this dream of mine, and make those who have encouraged me and helped get me here proud.

Stay Tuned…..