Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always wanted to write a book.
I’d spend my summers at the library. It was across the main road, add one block. I walked there. Ran there. Sometimes I even skipped. (Hmmm Why don’t we see children skipping anymore?) I would read the books in my upstairs bedroom window. Think nook-ish, minus the comfy cushion. From that window I’d see the kids playing outside…perhaps, it was marbles, or a game of football in the street. Some days I’d participate. But 9 times out of 10 I was in that window living through a book.
I was Nancy Drew solving all the greatest mysteries. Other days I was Katherine, from Judy Blume’s Forever Young. (Oh no! She got her period!)
I wanted to write a book! I wanted others to “feel” something through my writing. A payback, of sorts, for all the “feels” I had received, and continue to.
However, fast forward to present day.
I’m 48. Survivor of a rare blood disease (TTP) that caused a stroke at 34.
I am healthy physically. My brain has suffered the most.
I find words are hard to come by most days. It’s as if my brain has those luscious, descriptive words up there, but when I go to speak, it is mundane and boring. I’m thinking it, yet, can’t think of it to speak it. Grrrrr!
I feel inept in conversations, so, out of FEAR, I sit, and listen mostly.
I don’t remember much from high school.
I don’t remember much from my daughter’s first few years.
But, I’m tired of letting fear win.
I am who I am.
I are who I are.
And maybe, just maybe, doing a little blogging will help train my brain to revert back to what it used to be. I need to break into the vocabulary box that I know is up there. Perhaps I’ll discover old memories long gone!
I’m doing this for me. But alas, without feedback, I’ll be doing it alone. What fun is that?
So, please join me in what is sure to be an exciting experience for this puzzled brain of mine.
And remember, I’m very random ; )