Resurrection

I have written nothing creative in days, weeks, seems like months. Editing the works of others or crafting legal documents has wrung every word, every consonant and every semi-colon out of me. Or so I thought. Then I read “The Tiger’s Wife” by Tea Obrecht and decided to give up creative writing altogether. How could I ever hope to match the imagery of her seemingly effortless prose? I would shut down the blog, tear up my manuscripts, never write again….
But, a pair of flamboyant heels started me thinking about shoes (and heels) I have known and loved. The approach of Mother’s Day and Father’s Day brought to mind images of fathers braiding the long curls of motherless daughters and mothers who never hit a ball or scored a run pitching softly to nervous Little Leaguer sons before an important game, praying he would at least learn to swing the bat. A trip wrought mostly from duty brought dusty treasures from the past wrapped in new memories of cherished moments. And, finally, from a silly singing competition on TV, the soft cello notes, voices weaving in and through poetic words, came tears and sighs of remembered lost loves and the words began to form, to flow….and suddenly, here I am, writing again.

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