This has happened before. This pushing the cart over to the horse struggle I do. I envision a whole and ignore the parts. The book has been like that.

This morning I woke up with the thought of beads THEN string. I must gather all the beads then arrange them on the string.

That is what I have been doing. It is slow and scattered. The process is disjointed. There are big beads and little beads.

Finally, this morning I realized that is the disjointed process I always use to move forward.

Bead by bead…bird by bird.

Relief came over me. I have been doing it the right way, but feeling wrong.

Thank you Arlene and John Pearson. These two people helped me see that.

Arlene is in my writing group and told me to get a piece of paper and ” Write that down right now.”

John Pearson is a bead. A relative I have never talked to who saw the train and truck aftermath.

I asked him details of how the family dynamics and the farm changed after Grandpa Pearson was killed by the train.

I sent him some posts, pictures and photos of parts of Mama’s letters. Maybe this will lure him back to that time in his life. He was fourteen then. He is eighty now.

Time is ticking away. I must hurry to collect these beads. The string will have to wait.

FLOW