Taylor’s Time

It’s a genuine pleasure to have you back here today!

And yet again our Resident Author, Taylor Anne Vigil, has crafted a wonderful piece of writing to share with you this week.

I admire her ability to write in different genres and styles, from her personal essays (like this one) to her activism (Raif Badawi) to her dramatizations (Innocent Eyes, Remissionem Quaeritis, Mother) to her more genre-based writing (Guardians). I hope you’re enjoying it too.

𝑭𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑷𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆

𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 5, 2020

𝑪𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒏 𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒑 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆. 𝑰𝒕’𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆. 

𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆. 𝑨𝒔 𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒂𝒎, 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒔. 

𝑰 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒃𝒚 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆, 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒑 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝑴𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒍 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔. 𝑺𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍, 𝒎𝒚 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒂 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒊𝒕’𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒇𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈. 

𝑴𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒑 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏. 𝑷𝒖𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔, 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒌𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒔𝒖𝒏, 𝒔𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌. 𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒐𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆.

 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒖𝒅𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒂𝒓𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒂 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒔 “𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒎”. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔,𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚. 

𝑰 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒙𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑰 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕’𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅𝒔. 𝑰’𝒎 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒑 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒔. 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆. 𝑰𝒕 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆. 

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒅𝒈𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒚, 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕. 𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕. 𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒕 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑴𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔 𝑰’𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆.

 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑮𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔.

 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝑺𝒂𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒈𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒑. 

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝑳𝒆𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒍 𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑴𝒂𝒙 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔. 

𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇. 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆. 

𝑴𝒚 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏. 𝑴𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒔 𝑰 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆. 𝑨 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒎𝒆.𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒕. 𝑰𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔𝒏’𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒅𝒐 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓𝒔. 𝑴𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒔, 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒏𝒐 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆.

Published by gaffen620

Author of The Cassidy Chronicles. Lives in Colorado with many dogs, cats, and one very patient wife.

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