This morning it has hit me afresh.  I crave writing time.  As I sit at the table, the laptop, a cup of coffee and the sun rising outside I need these moments.  More and more.  I am feeling the pull to write. 

It is the only way I can tell a story.  Spoken words do not come easily to these lips.  Broken sentences, forgotten details, they never make sense.  I look to Husband Jared to finish it for me.  Yet when I sit here and type away, or find my pen and a blank sheet of paper, they flow.  Independence.  Freedom to share what I want, to leave out the mundane or make it the spotlight.  It is by my choosing. 

A gift.  Each memory written to be savored so as not lost.  An outpouring of my soul.  Other times hilarity abounds and there is no rhyme or reason.  A writer's perogative, right?  For now yes.  Yet I know where the words come from.  He hems in the before and after and I thank Him for giving me another day to write.

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