from the covers

Somehow it got to be Friday. Again. Last Friday I was sick. I'm still sick. My voice is shot and so am I. In the moments I've been able to sit with my story, I've not been able to write fiction. So I've played with research, with note taking, but even that is hard right now. No concentration.

So I'll settle for showing you one pomegranate from our California trip.

When I started this blog, over three years ago, I said it was about the stories we hold inside ourselves, and I likened the pomegranate to us: So many stories/seeds inside each fruit. Ha. But it's true. It's also true, as I said at a school visit on Tuesday (Don't ask; I thought I'd turned the corner. I hadn't), every moment we live contains our story, and the stories of others.

These stories are interconnected. This is what I tried to show in Countdown. We are connected to every choice we've ever made, as well as to the choices of others. Every breath changes the world. Even these struggling breaths I take now. They are leading me back to wholeness.

Back to bed for me. Peace, peace, peace.