In September I returned from a trip I had no expectation I could pull off, and my husband kept his own concerns private. But when I got home we both said variations of "I did--not expect that to work." And when I look back at the pictures and all the places I went I am downright amazed. I'm posting them...bit by bit...on my romance-writing site here.
Bit by bit because two weeks after this trip, I lost my father. It's not possible for me to describe the devastation to my heart and my family. He was an amazing soul and we were in no way prepared to say good-bye.
And yet we did.
I'm a confident person, and yet there are things I'd say with certainty I could not do. Cater a wedding for a thousand people, say. Solo. That kind of thing.
Yet in the last three months I've been gone from home for weeks traveling, completed and submitted books, sat through an election night where America seemed to spin and turn and sideways. and brushed my fingers through my father's hair at his wake. All impossible, before they happened.
Now? I'm aware they happened, and that I took part. But I'm not quite sure how.
That's what happens when you do things you can't do. The details evade you but the shock remains.
People can basically do anything. For better and for worse.