One of the perks of working on a college campus is that now that the students are back, there's a hum of energy in the air.
When I stepped outside with my coffee in hand and walked across the leaf-strewn quad to my office, I was filled with a desire to WRITE.
Not so that I could sell a book, or make lots of money, or be on the New York Times Bestseller List. I was filled with that naive, hopeful, pure collegiate desire to create something with no more complex a purpose than to make it beautiful and good.
Like standing on the edge of a cliff in the middle of a storm and singing into the wind.
This morning as the fog burned away, I was filled with that irrepressible, irrational, and absolutely intoxicating hope that someone might hear the echo of my voice.
And that this person would not only stop to listen, but to answer.