And it comes bubbling out through your fingers as you prepare dinner, but you don't notice it until everyone is sitting at the table, forks at the ready.
The brilliant orange of the raging fire on the mountain, the flame of sunset over the ocean, the heat of it warming your bones and bronzing your back - it must be shared.
The varied, lush greens of the garden missed only these past three days (traded for the blues of the ocean), the emerald eyes peeking back at you in the rear view mirror over 22 hours of road trip, the new patch of moss discovered under the Japanese maple - these can't help but escape even if it is just in the way of food on a dinner plate.
You realize it is who you are - an open book that begs to be read regardless of an interested, listening audience. Your mother agrees, it's always been this way. Almost every thought, feeling, impression, action has percolated and found it's way out.
And yet, there are secrets there, too. Not many, to be sure, but they are there and this is why you write, why you post.
Join me, won't you in Travelin' Oma's School Days Seminar