By Robyn Chausse
The soft, snow white cottonwood blossoms juxtapose the jagged edges of the painted rock behind them. Shimmering in the morning sun, the flowers seem to laugh as if sharing in a joke. I breathe in the freshness of the mountain air and continue across the street to indulge myself in a cup of my favorite tea and a scone.
I’ve found my second wind! Today I will begin the novel I have carried in my heart for these past four years. I walk slowly back to the meeting room, feeling fully within myself in a way I can’t remember feeling before. Past the medicine wheel, through the pool area, into the meeting room…I am ready.
I can’t type fast enough. It is as if the entire story is mapped visually in my head, impatiently waiting for translation into written text. Not wanting... More...
