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.
“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.