There it is; this idea of writing comes up in my thoughts again and again. Inspiration to move forward is never far away; it’s finding the concentration that is difficult. After a month of my mental and physical energy being tossed upside down and scrambled, maybe I can get a paragraph written today. Maybe even two.

On the eighteenth day of March, as I recall, my life was picked up like the letter titles in a scrabble game. Tossed into a bag and shaken until everything I had come to know was unrecognizable and gone. This morning as I lay in bed, I opened the bag and emptied the tiles onto the sheet. All the letters are still here. All the words can be put back together again. Nothing is missing or gone, just different. So then, the question isn’t why my world became a shambles, but instead, the question is how do I want my new life to take form?

Yes. It [move forward] does feel much better. There are just one hundred and eighty-two words, but I’ll get three hundred next time.