Memories. Boxes of memories. Gathered items collected over the span of her life. Pieces of her life carefully placed in boxes and moved from house to house, as she moved from town to town. Pieces believed to symbolize moments of her life. Pieces believed to be made up of pieces of her. Pieces believed to define her, as she is today. Irreplaceable pieces. Year after year, more and more pieces were...
After writing my last post and feeling the healing effects of writing it, I decided I’d share this blog with a few select people who I care about (other than my husband) and even shared it in a like-minded group I’m in on Facebook. Big mistake. It just set me up for disappointment again. No one actually cares… let me rephrase that. It’s not important enough for people to...
Kevin, being the awesome husband he is, planned to take the kids out to the park today after breakfast, for them to get some time outside before it got too hot and to give me a break. I figured once they left, I’d dive right into this blog and get as much writing done as possible. I mean, come on. No kids? Silence? What? Perfect atmosphere to get some writing done. (Instead of now, with...
Through every phase of my life, writing has played a huge role in how I express myself. My writing often shifts and changes into different forms, but it’s still there. Still a release for me. Still an outlet. When I was little, I would write poetry. Countless and countless poems filled my journals and spirals. I had a love for written word on crisp paper. It brought me excitement.. and it...
