 My garden has derailed my life. The weather heated up and the plants have gone from strolling along in their growth to a flat-out sprint to see which one of them can develop and ripen the most vegetables or fruit. Even my watermelon plant, which has been so sad and lethargic, has suddenly taken off.
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 Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay There’s a terrible little voice inside my head. It sows seeds of doubt, questioning my every decision and threatening my ability to make decisions. When I manage to block out its shout, it whispers instead, sneaking into the crevices of my mind. The closer I get to the potential release date of Liquid Fire the more persistent it becomes.  Image by Hrayr Movsisyan from Pixabay The last two weeks have been amazing and crazy for me. My kids and I took a little trip to visit family and catch up with people we haven’t seen in a long time. There was so much happening I only sporadically had access to email and social media. Consequently, I was a day late in getting the very exciting news that my first ever interview as an author had gone live on Esther Rabbit’s website.
 Image by còi photograper lê from Pixabay I love writing. I can spend hours at the keyboard spinning tales and describing the worlds floating through my mind. And I’m more than happy to send those stories out into the world for others to read and enjoy. But when someone asks me the oh, so simple question ‘what’s your story about?’ I freeze. My mind goes blank and I look like a guppy fish out of water, my mouth opening and closing but no sounds coming out.
 Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay As a teen I started a terrible birthday tradition.
 Image by Wokingham Libraries from Pixabay Someone told me recently they could never be a writer because they hate rereading their work. Yes. In writing you have to reread, reread and reread again to the point where you can’t see the words on the page anymore, just the words you expect to see.
Living this life together,
Sharing this bed of marriage, No matter what our problems Here is where we always come together. And once, after a beautiful day of joy, I curled up beside you, Snuggling into your warmth as always. I closed my eyes and dreamt of you, Lying beside me, peaceful and calm, Our heat intermingling And keeping each other warm. I woke smiling, at rest in myself. I touched your shoulder; It did not add heat to my own. I rolled you onto your back so easily And looked into your open, staring eyes with fear; They were empty. You were gone. My eyes filled with my pain, Overflowing into the growing cold of your absence. When all was finished And I was again in our marriage bed, Alone and cold without you to warm me, You were there; Lying beside me, peaceful and calm, Our heat intermingling And keeping each other warm. It is only when I wake That I realize, I am cold. |
