We all have our stories.You have yours, I have mine. We, with the flare of a soap opera writer write them out and watch them grow, change, evolve and trace out in our evolution our many childhoods , our varied youth and perhaps even our winter.
My story is frozen in limbo.I have refused to let time move on….or so I imagine.Time has long moved past me.I stand, one foot forward, but my head is turned backwards, my arms reaching out, calling out to a past that, like a dry leaf on a windy day,is drifting further and further away.I cannot run after it nor can I move forward.
So where did my story begin?…All stories begin where another ends……..mine….it never really began……
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