As I glanced up from the kitchen counter and he laid the small package down, I felt a bubble of excitement run through my body. “It’s here!” I thought. This Flesh These Bones is my second book and it almost didn’t make it to print.
Because when I was in my teens and twenties out at night in my sleepy suburban neighbourhood, I would sandwich my keys between my fingers as a weapon. Just like the girls were taught in school. Just in case.
Because I’ve been told – one too many times – that I’d be prettier if I smiled.
Because I can’t go for an early morning jog without being acutely aware of my surroundings at all times.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” ~ Mary Oliver
I mean, you may have lived a hundred before and you may come back again as a cat, or a tulip. Or something close to – but not quite – who you are now, as you work out the kinks of your former existence and burn through your karma while searching for your purpose.