Sitting in a small diner, I was looking uninterestedly at the menu, deciding what to order for breakfast. After getting the special, which was a great deal and included my coffee, I settled in to do some writing. I looked down hard, trying to hide the tears which kept slipping down my cheeks unbidden. I was feeling so dead inside. Another dream has died. I had told the director at school I was withdrawing. As much as I have loved the process, the PTSD from which I suffer had become unmanageable in class.
Jim Croce came on about that time, singing an old song from my teen years. Like a pine tree echoing down the sky, I've got a name...And then I've got a song, and finally, I've got a dream. Movin me down the highway...
I hope I can remember my name, and find my song and give birth to a new dream. It's getting so hard. Say a little pray for me dear readers. A little hope, a little grace, a big miracle would be a good thing right about now.
Peace,
Caris
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