As a writer, the words on my pages are so affected by what surrounds me. I love the scent of candles made by my personal assistant, Melissa, and her sister from their company Just the Moon. I love the pictures of family and friends scattered around me in various places, softly chanting “I believe in you and all your dreams.”
In my writing room, which used to be Aiden’s bedroom, I have the most beautiful view of the mountains and my front yard. And next to me is a handmade quilt which was the last thing my mom wanted to complete before she died in 2001. She began this quilt many years before hoping to pass it on to me but when she became ill with Parkinson’s she thought this dream would never come true. Her hands shook too much to make this possible. But she happened to mention to a quilting friend this unrealized dream and suddenly Mom had someone who wanted to help her. When the quilt was finished, my mother presented it to me with eyes that sparkled with pride. For years, I stored the quilt under my bed, not wanting to use it for fear of damaging it. But recently, I decided that I wanted this gift to be a visible reminder of my mother’s strength, compassion and love, so I placed it on the bed next to my writing table.
When my creative words fail to flow, I just look to my left and see the quilt my mother who had Parkinson’s found a way to complete. Mom . . . you continue to inspire me to be more than I ever thought possible . . . I miss you . . .