There will come a time when my pen will run dry, with no tears shed. The thousands of words that found their way into my mind and heart will live on somewhere in a cloud, only to be retrieved by curious minds.
Will my work be known as mediocre, or will it stand out from others, as I planned it to? Did my stories touch those who read them in a special way, my way? Did my readers become a part of my words, even momentarily, when everything came alive as they found themselves deep into the story's meaning?
If I had to choose one reason I write stories, it would be because I can. It is truly a gift from God that I don't take for granted. When people comment on my words, they tell me it takes them back to their youth, when life was simple, and everything that mattered was treasured. Some thank me, while others say the emotions they felt when reading brought a smile, a tear, and a peaceful feeling they longed for in today's hectic world.
If I made one person happy with a story, then I've accomplished my goal. I'll keep writing until the pen runs dry and my mind and heart bid farewell, giving way to a new generation of writers who use AI and Google to find the words needed to create something cold with little emotion that didn't come from the heart or the streets. Just an edited splash of words that could never compare to stories told and stories kept.
Mike 2025
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