I was depressed. My books weren't selling. After years of work, I felt as though I was shouting into the dark, empty void of Kindle cyberspace.
On top of that, I injured my Achilles and was off work.
I couldn't write, couldn't walk, and hated the world like Donald Trump.
And then my lovely fiance taught me the meaning of Love. She whisked me away--hurt foot and all, to Bend, Oregon.
OMGosh, what a joy to stand on a hill and look out over green countryside, the breeze pushing gold and yellow leaves across my feet. I had forgotten how blue the sky could be!
The city sludge, the fear, dropped away.
There was so much clear beauty around me that I was reminded why I write: to share truth and joy and love. It was okay to have slow sales. After all, readers were writing and saying they loved my work.
How lucky I am!
A woman I love had cared so deeply that she gave this gift vacation, this spa of a town. As I held her and thanked her, I thought how strange love is, the strongest of all forces, yet so gentle. It is both the living strength a mother has for the infant in her arms, as well as the power to lift a car off that child, should it be in danger.
It is not the Action Hero kind of power. It is the soft gurgle of a baby that makes us mighty. I became a better man that day in Bend.