Dabblers Write. Writers Persevere.

Cynthia Herron Writing 5 Comments

It was a day like any other. For someone. Somewhere. But not for me. For me, stark white walls and the whirr of machines defined my day. That is, days.  In fact, my son’s hospital bed and his sleeping form registered reality in a most unwelcomed way. Hours. Days. Weeks. How long had I even been there? Too long. I …