I was worried. I thought that after more than three months’ hiatus, it would be hard to start working on my novel again, hard to pick up the threads and continue this long-term project of mine.

I was wrong. Instead, it pulls at me, instantly, insistently, these words brimming behind the self-imposed dams that protect my bodily health. Characters crowd forward, aching to be enlivened. Gratefully, I gather these gifts of my creativity, striving to honor them well enough to keep the river flowing. Carefully, I push at the limits of my typing capability. And then, satisfied, I rest.