Happy birthday, Mom. I love you so much and I can't even begin to explain where I'd be without you. You are amazing and words cannot even describe everything I want to say. You're a writer. You know how inadequate words can be to say what you're feeling. I love the way I can always count on you to talk to me when I need it. I love your laughter. I love the way you're always willing to help me with school. I love talking writing with you. I love coming out of school and seeing your face (and everyone else's as well, but I figured this letter is to you, so I'd mention you first. :P). It makes my day every time. You make our house a home. You always make sure I'm doing okay and help me to make it through these chaotic college courses. You're always here for me. You're a talented writer, a wonderful mother, a beautiful woman and a great teacher.
I wish there were more words to describe what I'm feeling, but I suppose these will have to do. I love you so much and thank you for being you. Happy 21st birthday. :)
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Staircases come in all different shapes and sizes. Sometimes it’s a single step, carrying you to a known place a half foot above where you are now. It’s a small step and it’s easy. Sometimes there are hundreds of steps curling around and around and around themselves to an unknown high in the rafters above your heads. Every step in and of itself is easy, but put together they form a nearly insurmountable problem. The first ones are easy and then slowly your feet grow heavier with each time they lift and you begin to wonder if it would just be easier to turn back. You could stay at the bottom where it’s easy and you didn’t have to work to get to where you’re going. Sometimes you give in. And sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you push through and emerge at the top to see everything around you, spread at your feet, paying homage. You stand on top of your problem, and it stays below you, defeated. Sometimes staircases are mysterious, turning around corners to who-knows-where, ducking out of sight under broken steps and it’s an adventure not for the faint of heart. And again, you have the decision of staying put and staying safe. Or going forward and risk the danger, but potentially find something valuable at the end. Something you would not have found had you not tried. And you’re no longer afraid. But then there are those staircases that trip up your feet and you fall. Skid down several before getting your grip and heaving your aching body to its feet again to find that hidden treasure at the end.
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About Me!Hannah writes to satisfy her imagination. She's written six books so far--five of which need to be rewritten--and is working on a seventh. She ranges through a variety of genres, but favors contemporary YA, fixing broken characters. She wants to use her writing to change people and bring hope. She's currently going to college for Nursing and that takes up most of her writing time. She's a rather stereotypical writer, talking to imaginary friends, eavesdropping on people at the store, secretly being nosy, stashing herself away in her room with a paper and pen and chocolate and her teddy bear. She loves Jesus, the way the morning smells, her family of seven (four siblings), old movies, fairy tales, candles at night and helping people. She writes on another blog at nerdywriter.blogspot.com to hopefully build her chances of publication. My Author Site:Archives
December 2016
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