Do you ever suddenly slow down and realize that too much time has passed without noticing that it's been passing? I had that moment of existential crisis today when I realized how long it's been since I've been back home. Or, I suppose,
where I grew up considering this feels much more like home than
there ever did. It's been over a year and a half since I first arrived in Dunhaven to celebrate the birth of the best nephew that ever existed and
so much has happened and changed since then that the passage of time both feels impossibly long and short at the same time.
I also had the moment of realization that it's been nearly that long since I really
wrote anything. I miss it. I miss the sound of the keys clicking beneath my fingertips, or the scratching of pencil to paper. I miss the smell of ink and notebooks, and the feel of warm paper right after a freshly printed chapter. I suppose this
is a lament of sorts. Oh, woe, where has the time gone etc etc.
But it's also a statement of purpose, I think. I think enough time has passed and enough big things have changed to warrant sparing myself a little time each day to return to the thing that held my heart before Hope and Kier filled it up so fully. I want to try writing again, finding the voice that felt silent for too long. I can find my words, again, right? There's no amount of time that can take my writing away from me
?.
Right? 
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