I felt myself trapped in line for a ride I was not nearly ready for, looking back but moving forward in the only direction I could go.

There is incredible value in being of service to others.

My mind was in my heart, anchored like a bright kite in a safe place.

There is love in holding and there is love in letting go.

Well, anyway, her death changed our lives for the better, because it brought a kind of awareness, a specific sense of purpose and appreciation we hadn't had before. Would I trade that in order to have her back? In a fraction of a millisecond. But I won't ever have her back. So I have taken this, as her great gift to us. But. Do I block her out? Never. Do I think of her? Always. In some part of my brain, I think of her every single moment of every single day.

There are people who have never studied writing who are capable of being writers. I know this because I am an example. I was a part-time registered nurse, a wife, and a mother when I began publishing. I'd taken no classes, had no experience, no knowledge of the publishing world, no agent, no contacts ... Take the risk to let all that is in you, out. Escape into the open.

Abstracts are real and time is a lie, it cannot be measured when one moment can expand to hold everything.