TWOSeptember 14, 2014
There’s an inherent need I have to string words together, to lead one sentence into another introducing a story made up entirely of their connection. There’s a pull I can’t explain that calls my fingertips to tap the keys in rapid succession translating thoughts from my mind to the screen, a therapeutic conversation completely silent in vocal effort yet loud and clear in purpose and intent. Regardless if I wrote in this space or not, I think there’s a part of me that would always write something somewhere.
For a while, I went without writing. It felt like the severed relationship of a friend I’ve known since childhood yet two years ago I reacquainted myself. Two years ago I sat down in the corner of my living room and allowed the glow of a table lamp to shed light on a familiar feeling of joy and bliss in the literary form. Two years ago I created this place to rediscover a passion I knew as a young boy and became close to as an adolescent only to abandon entirely as a young adult, a passion as much of a part of me as anything else could be.
On a warm Tuesday night in June, when my daughter was born, there was a silent promise to become the best person I could be in effort to help her discover the best person she could be. After all, leading by example is more than just a phrase… it’s a way of life. While I certainly fail more than I succeed in keeping that promise, it’s imperative that she know dreams are worth chasing and if you run hard enough you might just catch one.