Even the loneliest and darkest moments have to yield to the light, eventually.
What has been experienced can never be taken from us. I've learned a lot about this from my memoir class students the past few years. These students, all of whom are over 50 (many are in their 80s), study with me through the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at San Francisco State. We meet one night a week to discuss the nature of memory, love, hate, loss, recovery, hope and hopelessness.
Many of their stories have an honest beauty one rarely finds in published works. Inevitably, their struggles helped me put mine in perspective. I have nothing to complain about in my life, though I often do complain.
The hardest time is always just before the sun rises, announcing the next chapter of the rest of our story. I got a nice note today from someone who said I'd captured a character we both love perfectly. That note made my day. Why do I write?
Because I have to.
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