Screeching Halt.

Over the last few months, I’ve really felt the urgency to write. But I just didn’t trust myself.

The words I had to share were anything but up lifting. The troubles racing through my heart and mind sounded too much like the piercing screech of metal against concrete, right before impact.

The question was not “if” but “when” it would collide.

     What would it look like when the flames hissed out?

I talk about it each time I enter a new field. I talk about the stresses and strains, the chaos and calamity, and the eventual ear piercing screech of culture shock. But each time, it hits a little different. Some times the bumper is scratched, and on others the back window is shattered.

     Cosmetic stuff, really. Nothing more.

But the way those silly brakes lock and skid me about always gives me a shock.

    Yes. A shock.

There is no better way to describe it.

So there you have it. It’s no excuse. Just an honest observation.

This time the hardest impact hit around 6 months in... (September 2013) and has lasted until today. Even now, I’m still reeling from the force of it, like tremors. And as I move about, my body aches and my soul whimpers.

“What has been so hard?”

Nothing and everything at once. That is why it’s so sneaky.

One minute I’m driving along just fine, and the next... BAM! The airbag is inflated and the front left tire is in a ditch.

Sigh. And all I can think is... “Oh, No! Culture shock has struck again!”

I’m happy to report, however, that I’ve missed writing. I’ve missed reaching out into the great chasm of words and spaces, of dots and dashes, of blogs and bloggers and grabbing hold of an eye... and hopefully a heart.

    Have you missed me?

So, I’m back. Or at least I intend to be. Only time will tell if I am truly able to see straight enough to type.

But like before, I promise... not to hold any of it back --mangled chassis and souls alike.


Photos thanks to 123RF Royalty Free stock photos @ http://www.123rf.com/photo_12398003_cartoon-car.html