Picking it back up

I didn’t realize I really only spent 6 years of my life in the “white house”, the now dilapidated, overgrown photo in the bottom left corner (above). Just 6 years. Yet somehow those years, although formidable, encompass a vast amount of trauma, memories, and pieces of my life I spent a majority running from.

RoF has captured my time “back home”. Since it’s been several weeks now from the last time I visited, the picture (no pun intended) is much clearer in my mind. I love how family still lives near and have molded new lives of their own, with beautiful memories which add to my collection. Mini and I discuss my dad and other parts of the family; however, I’m hesitant to share too much as it’s not her burden to carry.

Fortunately, I believe I’m in a good place in life to acknowledge a memory then release it. The book awaits. As I haven’t tried writing in years, soon it will be time to proverbially pick up the pen again. As new memories dull the sharpness of unpleasant ones, I’m mindful not to wait too long.

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I ask you –

Have you started writing a book/novel/short story to be derailed for a lengthy amount of time?

(The post Picking it back up first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)

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