She looked at me with a sparkle in her eye and a bit of a smirk, “You’re glowing!”
“Yea,” I grinned at her.
She was waiting for a report on my love life, but I had something way better to tell her.
“I’ve been writing,” I answered back with dreamy satisfaction.
She cocked her head just a bit and gave me a questioning look.
“It’s release for me. When I live through an experience and hold on to it, it weighs on me. But when I write it down and let it go, it’s…” I trailed off, trying to find the right way to express how big a deal writing is for me…
What makes this woman come alive, I asked myself; and the answer was so immediately there, it’s like I barely had to shift my thoughts.
“You sing. And when you sing, it’s…”
Her eyes sparkled, “Girl. I got you now. It’s everything. It makes everything right.”
“Exactly. It’s what we’re meant to do. You sing. And I write. And when we do the things we’re supposed to it, it’s like life is so much better. I can think better; I can breathe better. It’s like being free on a whole ‘nother level.”