I haven't been writing.
Life had overwhelmed me to a point that I was not able to breathe. I couldn't express my breath through my words and onto this paper. when I was disappointed, when I cried, when I failed. I was not brave enough to write.
So, I have not been writing.
Tasks and to-do lists filled each day. I needed to rush. I needed to go. I needed to hide from what I was actually feeling in my heart. I let fear take me to places that I felt obligated to go.
So, I did not write.
It was too hard to admit that the thing that I needed most, was the thing that nobody cares about. Everyone is a writer. Everyone is a photographer. Everyone posts countless words for others to read - we all have a voice. And mine felt lost.
So, I would not write.
And, in not writing, I have lost work. I have lost followers. I have lost my voice.
A couple of weeks ago, I stood in front of a group of second graders. They looked up at me with wide eyes when I told them that we have been given a gift. But that gift starts small, like a spark. It is up to each one of us to take care of that spark. To blow on it gently. To kindle it. To tend to it each day. We have the gift, all we have to do is feed it; add fuel to the flame.
My flames went out, but my spark is still within me. I am out of practice, I feel very rusty, I am still sad with disappointment. I don't know where this going or why I am here.
But, I will write.
