Fall leaves in muted tones of yellow hang heavy on the poplar trees. It's as though each leaf must convince itself the effort of hanging on is worth the time.
Should I give up and let go?
Should I give in and flutter in defeat to the ground below?
Not many years ago, I felt I couldn't hold on another minute.
It took concentrated, painstaking effort to cling to each day.The winds of adversity were too bitter. The rains of disappointment too frequent. Fear of failure battered me like hail. Mind and body, I was battle weary. My hands were tired. My heart ached. What was the point?
I had to make a choice.
And I wrote a book.
Nearly three years in the making--writing through soul-searching and tears, wanting to quit then taking up courage to press on, writing, rewriting and revising, rounds of edits, more courage--and Simple Things will finally be released in a few weeks.
Those leaves outside my window will soon all fall to the ground. Once verdant green bounty yellowed, each leaf knocked down by wind, rain, hail, and time, will the tree have failed in its trying?
As long as there is life there is hope; a promise of spring waiting to be discovered in the simple things we say and do each day.