I write because it’s one of the times I feel most like myself.
I write because, like others, I need a place to re-tell my story and process it’s twists and turns. I trace my fingers over the memories of the day or last year, reading the raised braille of the faces I have held, the places I have lived, the grief and the love I have learned.
I write because the words want out.
I write because I love an unexpected love letter.
And that’s how this space feels. It feels like God writes letters to me via me.
It’s as if there is a message I need to decode before I can understand it. So, I sit and tap, tap, tap this keyboard until the meaning surfaces like lemon juice writing held over a flame.
I hit “publish” on the post and then go back to read it with fresh eyes and I catch a whisper of a message He intended just for me.
I write because you and I are both listening.
OK, your turn.