Reflections upon a Morning's Writing

I feel the tension leaving her body as the morning writing progresses. 

To others, it may seem she sits quietly; yet, I know that on the inside, there is only movement. 

Her pen tap, tap, taps. 

Blue lines on white paper remain word free, but the percolator is brewing. In my periphery, her fingers begin moving upon phone keys, words are written, ideas captured, no matter or not if they are shared out loud today.

On the drive home, she tells me how much these days help, how as each person reads, it is as if she enters a different room where words dangle from the ceilings; and I am blown away by the beauty of the images she paints for me. I am pulled into her mind. I am inside that room, dangling words overhead, moving gently in the breeze of our presence.

She is unaware of her brilliance, unable to see how her light shines brightly and adds to so many lives. 

So I will keep reminding her, reinforcing her strengths, refreshing the pride I feel as she fights her way through turmoil and tough situations.

One day, she will understand my pride, be able to acknowledge that she has been strong all along. One day, she will look inside and see her true reflection, as I already see her now.