It's been three-and-a-half years since my last post, and the myriad reasons for that are immaterial. The point is I'M BACK NOW!
(Now that the world is battling a resurging pandemic, the kids are learning virtually, and I've fallen in love with Schitt's Creek only to realize its final season aired six months ago. I feel like a disgruntled pelican.)
Anyway, I’m here putting words on paper because I did something of which I am quite proud.
I finished reading a book.
At first blush, this is no great feat for a bibliophile. Though I read fewer books than I used to – because of streaming services and creating works of my own – finishing this book is an accomplishment because the book itself was a dare to finish.
Letters to the Finishers by Candance E. Wilkins is more than a self-help book with witty anecdotes and timeless advice. It is a friend, accountability partner, and guide.
Above all, it is a mirror giving me the opportunity to see myself – who I am and what I want – and how to unearth the weed-like vines suffocating my growth and progress.
This book is a collection of 40 letters nurtured in Ms. Wilkins’s soul, pushed through the complex cavern of her own experiences, and shared selflessly with the aim of easing someone else’s birthing pains. The letters are a challenge, a call to arms, and a cautionary tale.