It is not that I don't have anything to do or I am going off on a tropical excursion or driving into the mountains although all of these things, even the doing nothing, sound extra nice. It is that I have a million things to do right here. Projects I am excited about, people around me who are interested in the same projects and this feels good. It feels like what I have been wanting, what I say I have been working towards.
This moment feels like relief.
A breath before the inner critic whispers, You're going to jinx it. You're not that good. This is just another one of your little obsessive delves into something you've created with nothing to substantiate it. You have no talent. What the hell are you doing?
So I argue, But Josh called. He told me to work to my strengths and he said I had some and he had a great idea and he thinks I can do this.
It was his idea. Not yours.
But it was his idea for me and he took the time out of all that he is doing in this world right now to read what I wrote and give what seemed like valid advice, constructive criticism and he is as close as I have found to art. Got a degree in it and everything.
Mom always said a child needed one person in their life, just one to take time and show them the way. One person to believe in another. In adulthood I think we find it necessary to believe in who is believing in us.
Tonight, today, wherever we are in this sweet time continuum I am saying I am grateful for my brother.
Dear Alabama reader,
You will get to read the story before I submit it, I promise. It is not ready for you yet. Your faith and willingness to read all these years has put you in polished status. I work on the work for you.