I have not been able to write a coherent stanza, paragraph, or thought for some time. My notebook contains starts and stops. To be exact, I haven't been able to write since January 20th. The news, already at the forefront of my mornings, took an even larger role, with each new day coaxing some new emotion between outrage and sadness. Friends and family suggested that I not read the news so much because "it was making me upset". This advice echoed that which I'd heard given to older relatives and I found an empathy for my grandmother that I will never get to express.
Clearly I needed another outlet.
From my previous trip to Parnassus, I'd picked up a couple of books just for me to enjoy this month. It is especially an indulgence as I'm currently sans most personal belongings and like the Camino, I'm taking my things with me wherever I go. Books then are certainly not on the top of my packing list.
I don't know if one of you mentioned Will & I by Clay Byers or if it was just the title to read for me now but I took this little memoir from the shelves, and on a day when I decided reading the news was done, I opened the cover.
The settings were familiar: Birmingham, Chattanooga, Sewanee.
The accident was terrible.
The recovery, Clay was told, would be limited.
Will is Clay's twin so Clay has a direct measure of current life and potential. His memoir is matter of fact, as an observer at times rather than the participant. I think this is the way we manage telling the difficult sometimes. His journey is brave and throughout the read, I could feel the strength of his heart and of his will (independent of brother). Communication was a significant hurdle during the recovery and as he fights to overcome this obstacle, Clay finds himself a writer, and dare I say, a singer.
So this was the story to break my pattern and to find words again.
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