I’m sitting here in my reading/writing corner with the door to the Studio wide open to the Sound, listening to the Spa channel, feeling the cool breeze as I continue reading, re-reading and editing while taking notes.

I’ve been up inexplicably since 4am, although I guess I still am on Eastern time. It’s turned out to be a beautiful day.

I feel so fortunate to once again confront these terrible memories in this place of peace and paradise. I don’t think I’d be able to do it any other way.

Both yesterday and today have been about re-orienting myself to what I’ve already written in these 38 plus chapters, while taking notes about what I’m missing and making edits along the way.

Yesterday I realized, after feeling like I was going slow, that most people don’t read an entire book in one day, so I was doing ok.

My butt hurts from sitting here so long.

I’ve jumped all over the place from chapters on our childhood to the crime and the trials. Again, I’m reminded it’s much easier for me to detach myself and focus on the machinations of the legal proceedings than the loss. Writing about Cindy in life has gotten easier for me over the years, but it still remains a disparity. I’m not sure I will ever resolve that, but it’s better.

This is part of why I’m doing it. And why I’ve agreed to participate in certain specials on Cindy. It forces me in to places that are easier for me to avoid.

I’ve placed pictures of her–and us– around me as an ever present companion.

Here is a snippet of a chapter I’ve simply titled “Us”.

People often mistook us for twins, although Cindy was always long and lean to my shorter and stockier build.  She was brunette to my blonde and our faces were not that similar.  Yet our voices were nearly identical. and our mirrored expressions were the giveaway.  We created our own little world and relished living in it.  We had our own language, our own symbols, our own private jokes and our own intimacy that no one– almost no one– ever penetrated. Cindy could reach down under a dinner table and squeeze my leg and I would know exactly what she meant. Sometimes it was “OMG that was so embarrassing” or “let’s get going now” or “don’t laugh”. She would squeeze me and silently I would slide my hand down and squeeze right back and no words or even looks were ever exchanged. That went on for years.

Back to the chapters now. I’ll keep going today until I drop. I feel so privileged to be alive and able to tell this story in this way, at this time, in this place.

Thank you for keeping me company, from wherever you are, along this journey.

Some more images from my day.