A Book and a Chair

For over a year now - maybe as long as two, I'd lost the connection to words and sentences and the necessary life they provide. Losing the sweet rhythms of language, I lost a part of myself. I wanted it back, but I didn't know how to find it.

And then a friend gave me a book. It doesn't matter the title, the author, but it was a book that slowed me down, put me in a chair, and embraced me. Teased out the what I'd been looking for. It made me take pencil to paper, now fingers to keys, to write this and thank her.