Late last evening, feeling angst and sporting a headache that throbbed against my skull, I took a walk in the dark. My only companion, the moon. With his hair over one eye, he watched over me—saved me from the dark shadows. I gazed up into his face and wondered about the billions of people who’ve gone on to the next world before me, the ones who had dumped their troubles on him. The ones who had shared with him their dreams. The ones who had laughed and loved under his twilight.

I wondered about their stories. Some are known by all of us. Some by a few.
As I walked, I gaze over the valley that was my great grandparent’s farm, now divided among their children’s children. I know my great grandparent’s names. I can tell you they lay in the cemetery on the rise to the east. I can tell you their birth and death dates. However, I don’t know what they were like as people. Did they enjoy music or reading? Were reserve or outgoing? What was their favorite time of the year? Or their favorite foods? Did they believe and trust in the Almighty? What were their dreams?

We have pictures of course with names scribbled on the back, but by who? We have ledgers and invoices of transactions stored in the old farm house attic, but no personal memoirs. Knowing this, sadness crept in my heart as I crossed an open field. I wished someone had left behind their words for me. Told me who they were. Left a clue as to who I called my pass.

At that moment, the moon winked at me and from within I heard, “You were given the gift of the written word. Why haven’t you left behind words for your children or grandchildren or great grandchildren? Not all will seek them, but there will be one who will. Like you, they will cherish the memories you share and pass them on to another who well cherish their heritage. And so on.”

Stunned, I gaped into his one eye. The ancient man was right. He winked again and turned into a cloud, probably to advise someone else. I finished one swallow of crisp night and with a light step headed for home. I pulled from a drawer a diary given to me one Christmas years ago and wrote; September 9th, 2009. Within these pages you will come to know who I was, what I felt passionate about, and what were my dreams. My hope is I will teach something of the pass, something that will make you a stronger person and that I’ll touch you in some way. With love, your heritage.

A person’s lifetime really can be measured as the blink of an eye when compared to the infinity of time. The sprouting of flowers in springtime, the briny air blowing in off the ocean as you walk along a warm sandy beach, and the freshness of a cool, crisp winter’s day remind us that the clock is ticking season by season, minute by minute, second by second, breath by breath.

We say we’ll learn to play the piano or take gourmet cooking lessons next year, or start traveling after the kids have moved out. But the time to do all those things is now.

The characters in the novels we write don’t wait. They lead exciting lives on approximately three-hundred and fifty pages. They meet, have that first passionate kiss, fall in love, and share their dreams. And the amazing thing is that this is occurring while they’re being shot at, dealing with a family illness, or battling otherworldly creatures. They find ways to overcome their conflicts and internal struggles.

We can all learn something from the characters we bring to life in print. Things like allowing our mistakes to make us stronger, taking chances, and most importantly letting go of the pains of the past. Pains that hold us down and keep us from believing the stars are even reachable.

Now, you might be saying wait a minute, my novel is fiction, real life is so much harder. I have all these obligations. Everyone is counting on me. There are only so many hours in a day. Well, you’re right. Life is a complicated thing. The key is not to let its headaches consume you to the point that the things that are important to you get lost in the fire. Learn to flow with time.

So I challenge you to search your heart to discover what’s important to you, then do something you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time. It doesn’t have to be anything major. Learn to paint breathtaking landscapes, make a pledge to yourself to walk more, or allow the serenity of yoga or meditation to soothe your inner spirit. Me, I’ve always wanted to do the Susan G. Koman 3-Day Breast Cancer Walk and have made a commitment to train so I can participate in 2010.

What would you like to do? Write and share it with me.