The Mileage Is Mine

You drove yourself here—now what

If you have ever had a conversation with me, you know I love a good metaphor.

When I started writing, I was trying to define what it was… poetry, literature, short stories, essays? In the recesses of my mind, I have always wanted to write lyrics for music. Having no real background in writing, it’s hard to find your way. Also, who am I to be a writer anyway?

If you asked my late husband, he described me as a writer disguised as a painter. Hehehe… look how tricky I am. The truth is, I have been writing longer than I have been painting. The truth is, I have volumes of written words. The truth is, I have secretly been writing and submitting work for many years.

I just don’t talk about it.

People know me as a painter. An artist. And those are two of my many loves. What they don’t know is that when I sit down to write, it is literally like I am a musician at the keys. Things just flow from me. And I allow it.

Of course, not everything I write is good. It’s also not all bad. But how would you know unless I shared it?

So… I’m sharing it.

I want to invite you into this part of my work.

On a canvas, I show you how I see the world.

These lyrical essays, built on metaphor, are how I move through it—the moving images my mind creates as I go.

I don’t know about you, but I get lost in moments. Visual ones.

I’m usually in it before I understand it.

Something stands out.
Something feels slightly off.
Something lingers longer than it should.

And I stay with it.

A sunset.
A pebble.
A person.

And then—somewhere in that— something shifts.

Not because it was explained. Because I noticed it.

Not to understand it— but to see what reveals itself when you stop trying to.

Here’s one of those moments.