I woke knowing it was time. I’ve talked about it for years but life happens and I never get around to it. I woke from a restless night, dreams in between the awake times, something nudging me. I need to figure this out. I suddenly realize there is a higher purpose to sharing our story.
Mark’s 56th Birthday was yesterday. Heading towards 60 suddenly seems real. Time seems to be slowly telling me, your time is ending. I’m not saying I’m sick or I’m leaving soon, I’m just saying I’m in my last 1/3 of life and it’s now or never.
I need to write that book, I need to share our journey together.
Maybe the higher purpose, is what it has always been. Writing helps me to release. Writing helps me process all I’m living, and gives me perspective. The written word is permanent. You can hold it, it can be reread and it is tangible. I have always found it interesting how if I write something down, there is a certain closure. Closure may be what I’m looking for.
