The Drought - Cheri Lee Funk

©2002

 My writing has been suffering from a drought.  It had been months since I was able to sit down at my desk and have the words tumble from my fingers and my heart.  Those words were part of a story that was still painful and often brought me to tears when those long ago memories tumbled back.  But when I wrote, those words lost their power.  I would say them out loud, put them on paper and reduce them to what they should have been, just a bunch of letters that formed words. 

Today I was heading to the beach, to the place that always seemed to heal the cuts and bruises made by those words and beatings.  Much like the salt water would heal the little cuts I would receive when I walked along the shore and stepped on the shells.

Yesterday while sipping on an Iced Latte at a coffee shop, I made the decision that I needed to get on with my writing.  I was reading the words in the newly released “Crumbs in the Keyboard.”  81 women authors from around the world put their collective talents together and gave birth to the “Crumbs Project.”  As I read I was overcome with the power of this book and the women who collaborated to bring it to fruition.  I laughed, I cried and I nodded my head in agreement as I read.  Their stories were my stories and the stories of many others who haven’t even been born. 

I cannot begin to explain to you the sheer joy and power I felt when I came across the page where my own words were written.  To see my name in print gave validity to my heart’s desire, my need to write.  I was destined to write, to tell a story and to reach out to others who may still be hiding from the pain and fear.  By writing I would continue to heal myself and bring hope to others. 

Today, I would begin writing again.  As I gather my things together for my journey to the place that would free my soul and bring me peace, I glance out the window.  There were big black clouds off in the distance and I could hear the rumble of thunder.  Oh, please don’t let it rain.  I so need the beach today.  The rolling surf was calling me, whispering my name and promising me that today I would once again write.  But not only was my writing suffering from this drought but so was this sleepy little beach town.  Our lakes were drying up, our drinking wells were pumping little water and lots of sand and the flowers were turning brown.  We desperately need the rain.   If it rains for a bit and stops than I can still head off to the beach.  Even if it is cloudy I can still sit on the shore and write. 

As I gaze out the window I see the rain pouring down.  I watch as the flowers turn their faces up to welcome the warm and gentle summer rain.  The drought is finally over we need this rain today.  I pick up my copy of Crumbs and begin again where I left off, gathering more courage and more inspiration.  I will write tomorrow. 

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