The two-year anniversary of my forced move is not that far away. I had to leave so much on the curb for the trash people. Literally on the curb. Years of building my art studio went into storage, I haven’t seen or touched my paints, inks, papers, ribbons, pencils, glues, cutters, stamps, beads since the day they were packed. My kitchen, books, curtains and assortment of antiques all in storage since move day. The “things” that gave me comfort, caught my eye, made me happy, made me smile all packaged up in cardboard, sitting in a barn, waiting and hoping.
It seems too that along with everything else packed away, so has my ability to write. I guess it was just too much anxiety, fear, sadness and adjustments that shut down my heart and my mind. I have thought of you all so often, stopped in to see the great posts, photos and adventures. But for some reason that I can’t explain, I have been rendered speechless. It makes me sad in the sense that I am no longer a part of your lives because I can’t write. I miss you all so much, truly I do. In some way maybe I just don’t feel equal anymore. My life is not filled with the adventures of Kayaking NYC and abroad. Going to beautiful, exotic places in Europe as a Travel Blogger, sharing magnificent photos from California and around the world, seeing the heart and soul of a painter from Vancouver BC or the most breathtaking Sketches from Australia. I miss you, each and every one of you. My life doesn’t seem worth sharing, at least not right now.
Please, please don’t give up on me.