Today I head north to rejoin my family.
While I dislike being away from them, it was a productive trip and spent a great deal of time with friends and family. Some property was cleaned for divestment, my father’s office was cleaned to turn it into a new bedroom, and 20 years-worth of financial documents were burned.
By all accounts a smashing success.
A little more than a year ago I did this drive on the way home from my father’s funeral and realized the clock was ticking. I was healthy again after neglecting myself for a long time, but something was still missing. I had yet to heal my mental and emotional wounds.
Writing unlocked that.
But it was the decision beneath the writing that got things in motion. I decided, while driving home alone through the hills of Kentucky, that I would start working on the things that really mattered to me rather than keep trying to convince the world I already did.
As I get set to embark on this trip again, I wonder what insight may be revealed, if any.
The answers are out there, don’t wait until somebody dies to go find them.
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