I have been a writer from earliest memory. I would sit in my apple green play room, folding paper, creating makeshift books in which to pour my thoughts. Word upon word, layered with illustrations, created unending volumes all my OWN.
I credit my Auntie Paula for my love of literature. She read aloud to me a wide array of stories. She introduced Shakespeare, from my earliest recollection. Emily Dickinson was a dear friend long before I ever boarded a school bus. I can still recite poetry from that golden, pre K era. Auntie Paula endured the cruelty of polio; ravaging her body as six months old baby. Yet, her mind was the sharpest I’ve known (as compared to my modern day muse, Ms. K, who is a warrior woman of word and a mom S is blessed to have!! ). Were my Aunt not “disabled” perhaps the fertility of her creative mind would never have impacted the trajectory of a life the way it did mine. I say “disabled” in quotes purposely; I think of her as ULTIMATELY ABLE! She unknowingly spoon-fed me my future. Unbeknownst to her word by word, in the quiet moments seated in a sun drenched garden, snuggled together in my childhood bed with every light extinguished, she invested in the heart of a would be wordsmith. Listening to her stories made me believe in her mystical, magical superpower. Her words transported our minds to places bodies need never follow. Her stories made me laugh and cry; they made me want to fight injustice and empathize with pain my young self had yet to know. Literature expanded my world view before I turned five and its impact remains to this very day.
I have identified myself as a writer since that book faire blue ribbon I boasted about recently. Since Third Grade, when asked what I aspired to be, I’d say, “a writer and a mom.”. As it is in adulthood, choices have to be made. I graduated Arizona State University and immediately met the man who would make me a mother. Ahead of that we had a love story to write which included my integration in his world and that of managing his intellectual property. Blessedly, Steve Wilton entered our lives and I could focus on my next chapter: motherhood! I kept busy with two daughters, taught them to read before five, helped them memorize poetry Auntie P taught me, worked as an art teacher as well as at the girls’ elementary school. While living the dream of motherhood I had had to put my writing ambition on the proverbial book shelf. Although I longed to write the time was was not right. My passion and focus was only on the care of my family; who was, is, and always will be, my priority.
When Warrior died I never sat down. I never laid in bed. I worked every day from the day we stepped back on New Mexico soil to provide for my children. There were many ways to do this but my self professed identifier from decades past burst forth. I sought my core; I unearthed my dream; I put back on my writing hat. At the start I did it to keep in touch with all you Warriors; to assure each one we’d be ok. I started to get feedback from readers looking for assurances THEY would be ok. You Warriors felt connected to the universal theme of challenges posed, lessons learned, mountains scaled with life and death consequence without the luxury of a safety net. I began to understand my warrior tribe was not only behind me in support but also behind me expecting that I lead.
I was humbled in a physical way: I literally sunk to my knees in tears, so honored by your faith, or more truly, overwhelmed by your belief.
I was scared; I did not want to let any of you down. True Warrior fans loved Warrior and Always Believed even if they might not always agree. I felt a responsibility to keep his indomitable spirit pumping, his legacy living, his legion of Warriors led...and you came along. You poured faith in a woman small in stature but bursting with belief. You rode the word train with me and delivered me from Parts Unknown to destination: Dream Recovered. How could I let my writing dream be abandoned by fear having had each of you hold a candle every week reading my columns?
Some exciting opportunities are before me now. They make me laugh and cry with excitement... stand to full height with purpose. Will there be those who try to shake my confidence, sure? Will there be unexpected naysayers questioning my chops, damn straight there will be! I’ll not permit another’s lack of support fill me with weakness or doubt. My track record of taking things on and slaying them to pretty pink ribbon is pretty gold glitter standard.
I’m a perpetual student of life, thirsting for the next level of education and mastery. Not one person taking on any challenge knows it all. A humble, eager, student is a welcomed addition to any team, across the board! When I let fear creep up about all there is to learn I let Theodore Roosevelt’s encouragement lift my confidence,
“Whenever you are asked if you can do a job tell ‘em ‘Certainly I can!’ Then get busy and find out how to do it!”
Ladies and gentlemen, Warriors and Warrior Women, fear of failure is the most toxic belief pattern looping through the human psyche. You’re not too old. You’re not too late. You’re not past your prime....There’s no lost time, only lessons found. There are no insurmountable obstacles; only layers of learning that fill your bank with equity, the dividends called: wisdom.
I believe anyone who hasn’t had a freaking bloody nose can’t describe the crackling pop and subsequent flooding surge. I believe the greatest stories include crawling on broken shards before breaking glass ceilings. I believe the universe honors Warriors who feel the fear but fight for the POWER of one’s ULTIMATE dream...ALWAYS!!!
Thank you, Loyal Warriors.
Thank you Indy🍒, Mattie😈Stove😻,Uncle PD💜Auntie Paula💟,Denise🥂, Alia🧜🏼♀️, Greege‼️Andrea🍞,Leslie💋, Tara🦋, Cindy💃🏼, Jphr🌠Randy 🏋️♀️, 📚K, MK🦁, Jo&Geo👨🏼🚒👰🏻you know what each of you has contributed and the faith you’ve poured into another’s dream. xoxo