Sometimes I have to step away from those I love to follow what I love.
Shook off the attachments of cellular and developed family.
Crawled out of my own skin to fill another body, to speak other words, to feel another pain.
Seems absurd and unreasonable and false.
Sometimes I follow my heart even when I know I breaks others and I shouldn’t even bother to begin crafting the apology.
Because I’d make the choice again.
Sometimes my own words aren’t enough and I have to rely on the kindness of strangers.
It’s a kindness to be able to walk amongst other dreamers for a while and to build beautiful castles from wishes and poetry.
Among the things I left behind were my own words. I stranded my characters on a back road in Virginia, gasping for breath and driving hell for leather.
My son is next to me and I’m in love to be there.
But my book, my Jack and his cronies, they need me back and I’m anxious to talk to them again.