Through the blur of my tears, I saw a tiny head of dark hair, and I heard her powerful cry.
I feel like I’ve stood close to death and evil twice in my life: when a family member tried to commit suicide, and more recently- when a loved one was murdered.
Conversations with my birth mother and father revealed something I never knew about my tattoo, and it sent chills to my bones.
The true test will be if I can accept the words I use to craft my tale and trust my readers will benefit from them somehow. In essence… can I believe in myself a little bit more?