You have not heard from me at all in a very long time. And that is because I had no words. No things I could say, no insight in a time that for me and many close to me was black as pitch. I did not need to speak then, but to grieve. But now I am tired of tears and silence.
I cannot give a full report on all that has left me paralyzed -- I still don't have the words and neither is it something to foist upon the ears of passing strangers.
But I can tell you the last straw in a string of sharp, heartbreaking events that broke this camel's back.
My Charlie is dead.
Just like that.
Momma's cancer therapy dog, he was. The puppy that brought smiles even to the bleakest of days is somehow gone.
All because one boarder at my neighbor's barn was late for work and sped on our gravel road.
I still don't get it.
Do you ever feel like Job?
Two months and two-thousand miles removed from all that, I have, for the first time since, picked up my novel and pen. Only to find I am extremely out of practice. Oh, for a magic key that will let me back into what I once believed was my own world! Or better yet a magic pen that will write my story for me. That is every writers' dream, right? My favorite quote on the subject remains, "I don't like to write, I like to have written." I know there are those who enjoy the actual process, hacking out the details and so on, but I confess I am not one of them.
I quit writing, drawing, music, and even taking pictures for the month of September. I had no desire for any of it. But now that Black September is over, I want to come back to my art-loves only to find one of them — my favorite, writing — a stranger.
I need a new start so I was sent to visit my sister, where I am currently writing from. But even here, in perhaps the most inspiring city in the States, there is no magic cure.
'It's hard to wait around for something you know might never happen;
but it's even harder to give up when you know it's everything you want.'