The rain is a pain
But we need the rain
So we can't complain
It was published in that great media mover and shaker, The Lindsay Gazette. That's where I got my first bite from the writing bug.
My next memory is of the assignment given on the first day of class by my freshman high school English teacher, Mrs. Leinsteiner. (Why can I remember names of people I haven't seen in 30 years, but I can't remember conversations I had yesterday?) We had to write about our favorite place. I wrote about the orange grove that surrounded my home. I've always been a little off. I admit it. I remember the wonderful encouraging comments my teacher made. It wasn't the teaching. It was the feeling that I got when I wrote and someone responded positively.
So, I write. I write about this hard stuff. I write about how strange it is to explain to people who see me or see pictures that I post that even though I look healthy, I'm tired and in pain every single day. That I'm scared of the surgeries to come and the decisions that still have to be made. I write about what it's like to be a warrior still fighting this battle. I write about the funny stuff and the sad stuff. I write to feel better. I write to share. I write to inspire and motivate and encourage. I write to make a difference. I write.