I work at home, in the library and at the coffeeshop most often. Creating and building, bent over my laptop. My fingers pounding away at my keys. Often I am told my typing sounds like rain. But at times and what people do not know is that the story really builds within my mind as I am walking…talking, living, breathing, in every step. As I pour my creamer into black coffee and watch it swirl I zone into thoughts so far away from you standing there next to me that I may be in another realm altogether. My story builds in my toes dipping into the waters edge where the water meets the sand. My soul becomes mended and the story forms like many grains of sand into that strong and beautiful pearl. My story is forming when I am walking and I don’t see you as you even wave and call hello….my thoughts are in deeper places just then. My story even builds as I wake from a dream that makes me question and wonder at the feelings I woke with. My story builds when I read a line in a book that sings to my heart. Or when I hear a song from a stranger that tells a story of my soul . And even when I see a color or image across a canvas that says simply ” hello”.