I didn't even repost yesterday the love story, Pearl Harbor, for my parents' seventy third wedding anniversary until today. I miss them more each year. Funny, it is not the raw on the edge emotion of the first years, but a quiet welling of tears at unexpected moments that vents my sadness. Mother's Day wrecked me more this year than some. Father's Day always blasts me to the shore of those emotions.
I have adopted so many mothers where I work, now. I am blessed. But one is in the hospital and I watch similar symptoms take over their bodies that finally won in my own mother's body.
My own journey of motherhood is in a valley, as I fight the doubt of my choices. As I allow some of my discouragement escape, others with adult children open up to me. There are groups for mothers of preschoolers and school age children, but I think parents of adult children need a support group, too. Toxic parents anonymous.
I saw the post today at the bottom of this page. My heart is always with my writing. I love my craft. I started a few weeks ago to handwrite a journal again. I feel free with that. As I vowed in the year 2000, to journal/write every day to prove my determination to be serious as a writer, I resumed handwriting my first thoughts every morning.
As my vacation approaches in this week that is less hectic, I look forward again to finishing Outside of Time's first draft. Then, I have Country to return to and finish. Last Free Exit will get a re-visit this summer for publication in the fall. I anticipate, Waterfire book signings outside of Designs by G store in downtown Sharon and our Western PA author reading festival July 25 in Mercer, Pennsylvania. Maybe this July will be the blessed seven month I expected last year.
I keep my dream. I will never lose my dream. I have been awake working on it for too long to give up. I'll overcome the setbacks and develop more stories. Each day brings more stories and the ground is fertile.
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