Our stories make us who we are. And each story has its own purpose and its own reward. Each story rings true and each story is worthy of the ages. There is no such thing as an insignificant life.
Laurence Overmire, New York Minute: An Actor’s Memoir
Here, in the sweetness of predawn I sit silent—grateful for the stillness of the past few days, and equally grateful for the noisy and busy ones ahead. It’s a transition and travel day.
As I sip soy milky frothy coffee, I reflect upon a connection made, for the first time last evening, with another family member. My heart is happy at the life he has been blessed with, and grieved by the choices of another I’ve long wondered about.
More truth is brought into the light, and I figuratively place a couple more pieces in the puzzle that is my family.
And it is well.
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I’m declaring the sandbox that is the first draft of my new book full and finished. It’s junk, as it should be. Setting it aside for a few weeks to do life, then pulling out the pails and plastic shovels to start crafting sandcastles.