The love letter.

I can spend a day just thinking. Or walking. And be perfectly happy. Yes, exercising. Mentally. Physically. Maybe that's what I was born to do. Think. And move about. I wonder when I started thinking. Really thinking. I don't remember my first conscious thought. Must have been a year or more after I emerged from the womb. Maybe shallow thoughts came first. Wasn't until I learned words. A language. And the real breakthrough came when I started to read and write. To communicate. With meaningful words. Maybe words were my first love. In books. Then my own written words. What a marvel. The ability to create my own words. On paper. In writing. Gave me a sense of being a creator. Publishing my own neighborhood newspaper. In the sixth grade. When I was 12. And I haven't ever stopped writing. Made my living. Writing for newspapers. Now I write my blog. And emails. Thoughts are elusive. But I capture 'em. In writing. Makes me feel alive. And conscious. Interesting how my writing has evolved. Into my favorite form of expression. The love letter. --Jim Broede