I face these things every day and hour that I sit down to write this story, to remind myself that part of my job is to honor these people, their hopes, their dreams, to write what was, and what should have been.
Monday, December 29, 2014
The View From My Desk Chair
I have a gloriously full desk at which I write: part altar, part working space. I have a picture now of Asha on my wall, and I face it when I write, as well as a picture of her husband and his friend, waiting patiently at Asha and Anina's cremation. There is also a picture of Asha's memorial cross on Love Creek Road, a pastel drawing of mine, many years old, of a lotus, and a red packet containing the text of the Heart Sutra.
I face these things every day and hour that I sit down to write this story, to remind myself that part of my job is to honor these people, their hopes, their dreams, to write what was, and what should have been.
I face these things every day and hour that I sit down to write this story, to remind myself that part of my job is to honor these people, their hopes, their dreams, to write what was, and what should have been.
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