An amateur pondering in the fair success of the written word upon a bookstore has everything to do with the idea that she may find me there; as I can pick her out of a crowd of a million other stories.
She is one of a kind. She is my muse. My heartache.
I am alive because I know her. It’s that simple.
Thank you Father. I am blessed. I would not be right in the head nor the heart had I not held her close to my soul from day one – as I see her – unchanged and unbroken.
She is a teacher. I cannot let go – but I can let things be as they must. I don’t need her touch, her love, her acceptance – only her voice captured in a whisper every time I gaze upon the billions of campfires in the heavens. It just is.
So be it.