The saying the pen is mightier than the sword is something my mom used to tell me all the time. Words that I use with my own four scrappy grand-boys, who come from a long line of scrappers. It is the power of those written or typed words that can capture time, heal and inspire nations to rise up.
I have written since I fell in love with reading at a very early age. I would lock myself in my tween bedroom and read novel after novel. Experiencing Scarlett O ‘Hara, and many heroines that took me away from being a latch key kid. We are the heroine in our own story. A story each of us have to tell. Life is hard. Simple. And as we ride our tattered white mare to the finish line, the spark in her eye will remain. A life well ridden, deserves the wonder of telling that story for future generations, but for the truth of knowing when you write it is your truth. And as my grandmother would say, ” life’s work well done.”
I was blessed on my birthday with many gifts of time. Gifts of reveals, healing and truths. One gift of wonder is forever etched into my mind. My grand-daughter fell asleep on the way to a light up ceremony at Silver Star Resort. She left a snowless urban setting and I tickled her nose to wake her up, we were both standing under the lit up trees and sparking Christmas lights. Her eyes looked around with complete wonder. The lights, falling snow tangled in her lashes, fire dancers with iridescent wings surrounding her, and she looked at me with her gold eyes and whispered “It’s Christmas Gramma.”
As I write those words I can take you to a precious moment that only a three year old can see. That is the power of words. It doesn’t matter that the words are grammatically perfect, it matters that you share what you see and in that we can connect in a way that sustains us all.
Talking to Val Trevis on my podcast, as she pivots and honours her mother in her next life stage of being a writer. Something she always was. I am in awe of her words, the similarities we share and her courage.