In many ways, I have moved on since my mother disappeared. In the little, practical ways, I had to. I had to eat and sleep and sweep the floor and buy groceries. I had to cook the little packets of salt-free meat she had set aside for herself in the freezer.
I've even, recently, begun to write again. Yesterday I finished a chapter and, for just a second, I was about to send it to her. She would have enjoyed it.
But then there's this blog.
Somehow it feels disrespectful to follow all those entries about her with anything so enjoyable, so business-as-usual, as the normal contents of an author blog.
But here goes. It must be done. Next up: picking up my dropped book, "The Sandfruit People".
It may be counterintuitive, but I believe that pain can inspire a writer. It is from the depth of our own emotions that we can see our fictional characters most clearly. Your mother will always be with you.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ray. I agree totally and really appreciate the encouragement.
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