The summer of 2021, a much different summer. A summer in the city. A summer where I walk a different route and rest my head at the end of the day in a different place. I gaze out different windows at a different landscape. Somehow in my weariness, confusion and fear I finally realized that I needed to take care of myself before I could take care of anyone else. I had reached the end of a taut and fraying rope. I am writing this summer which is not the norm. I usually spend long hours in a garden, make several daily trips to my lake and put writing on hold until a later date. But this summer I am writing, I am resting and allowing myself a reprieve. I am stepping back from the normal and finding my way toward peace and healing. And I am allowing the people in my life to find their way toward that for themselves without my daily worry and obsession with their well being as if by doing all I did I could fix or prevent their hurt and struggle. I am on a writing /healing residency of my own choosing. Today I wrote the last lines of a book I’d been running from. Today hopefully Skyward left the printer and is on it’s way to my waiting hands and heart. Today I walked on city sidewalks with a friend who’d come in to have lunch with me. Later I walked the same sidewalks to meet Meg and the girls at the library and spent some time in their company. I was a well Monkey, a happy Monkey and what better Monkey do I want for them. I walked back to my small space and sat to write the last chapter of Jasper’s Road, the third book following Amelia’s story. Walton Lake Road, a road in my heart and the road I drove away from several weeks ago. One healing day at a time is the gift I embrace today and as the street lights come on I am thankful for this day.