I write. I’ve always written. I have a memory of sitting at the first computer my parents ever owned writing a story. I don’t remember how old I was. I just know I was sitting at the kitchen counter on a stool. Odd what we remember sometimes, isn’t it?
I fell in love with my husband over words. Words in Instant Messenger. Words in shared writing experiences. We had this book. I still have it somewhere. Or not. I loaned it to someone. I don’t even know who. But it had daily writing prompts. We’d sit at our computers, 1500 miles away from each other, and we’d both write. Then we’d share. Well, sometimes we’d share.
I write every day. Sometimes the words flow like water. Sometimes it’s like extracting tears from a stone. But always, I write. I hope my words make you happy. I want them to take you away from reality. I want them to bring you joy. Thank you for reading.