But the arrival of this particular book is like holding Love in hand or paw, daily. Each morning I pass it (it is of course still sitting on my table) and touch the cover image of the pups. I smile whenever I see it.
I've been wondering why.
And then I realized -- it's a little concrete piece of space in which Love still exists.
For months I put off finishing the book, knowing that when the last line was written, that part of my life might feel "over" or "done." Wrapped up.
I didn't want that. For as rocky and grief-filled and joy-filled and challenge-filled those years of my life proved to be, I realized in writing that I was truly
I was writing a part of my life journey that was filled with laughter, love, sorrow, loss, more Love, and more realizations and growth.
It was the time of my life.
After another period I was equally sure was
the time of my life.
And isn't that what we learn in memoir:
That the time of our lives is now, daily,
moment to moment,
and looking to be held or touched each morning.
remembering and living again
So it's out! It's arrived! It's a story of Love incarnate and of losses and growth, and futility and humility and joy and Love.
I can share it with others and have given
a few to good friends.
I hope they read past the first few chapters
It's a story of the Language of Love
taught by masters in it.