Make Room For You. Your Story. For Rest.

Everyone has a story. All of us were once little girls. We all have memories. Some happy. Some not. Some we share. Yet, many more lay hidden in the secret pages of our heart. We try to forget about them. So that we can be strong. So that we can be happy.  So that we can be free. That’s what I thought, until one day, I stood at the cusp of a childhood dream about to come true. I. was. going. to write. a book. But as my pen hit the paper to capture those moments, they all came alive. My memories were no longer stories I once told myself. And I began reliving them. Unexpected. Painful memories. Trauma. Anxiety. Just a Visit I was seven years tall.  I didn’t want to be afraid. It was supposed to be simple. Just a visit. On the weekends, my father would come see my sister and me.  After the divorce. I was supposed to climb into the car with the cracking vinyl seats, into the car with the peeling rooftop — of my daddy’s olive green Nova.  It smelled like old, dirty ashtrays, as I slid in the back.  It smelled sad and lonely.  But, ...