By 
Do you ever want to run away?
This online dance that we writers do, the blogging, the Facebooking, the tweeting, the talking the talking the talking….some days….
Some days, I get a yen to be the character in the myriad stories of self-discovery and drive west into the sun and become the nom de plumed recluse of an author writing from a lonely perch high in the desert, its sparkling air imbuing the very shapes of the very letters of my prose with shiny wit.
The Hermit Writer’s Life sounds so lovely sometimes.
But then I remember you.
Your “Go for it!” and “If you can do that, I can do this!” and your innumerable hugs over the last few years and stages of this project resonate through the discontent and shift my inner alignment to thankfulness. The richness of this particular space in time, with you, almost overwhelms.
The freedom we have to care for each other, to be in real relationship with almost anyone makes up for so much of modern life’s dysfunction. (And my children! My marvelous children!) As I heard an author say on NPR recently, “I was recently asked what time period I would like to have lived in, and I have to say as a commoner and a woman, I have to pick now. I don’t think there was any period in history that was as kind as today is to the average person, the average woman in particular.”
And that truth brightly shines as I look at this community of friends and readers that has gravitated, whipped, coalesced into my spiral galaxy of Life. I choose you. This day. This place. These people. You. Thank you.
