A few years ago, when the last of four left the nest, I picked up the pen. After thirty years of the endless grind/joy/disappointment/bliss called daily life in America, the house became quiet enough that I could hear it...faintly, at first, then steadily increasing in volume..."I'm still here," the pen said.The same rush of adreline coursed through me as it did when I was a kid writing for the high school newspaper, then college newspaper, and reading, writing, reading and writing some more...then writing, writing, writing all the time...short stories, movie scripts, letters to the editor...submitting them all...rejection letters! Ha! Got those every day. Wrote more, more, more and submitted those.......then, LOVE happened. And I am happy to report that my wife and I are still in LOVE.The pen, who sat in a drawer for so many years, waited. "Now," it said. "Now that you've finally grown up, try writing again. This time what you write may be worth reading."
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