There's been a heaviness in my heart since yesterday
when I heard of Robin Williams' death.
I know I'm one of many.
He made us laugh in so many movies.
And now to find out that there was so much sadness inside him.
That makes me sad.
The real me is the woman in this window, manual typewriter in front of her but holding a pencil posed over paper. Deer nibble at shrubbery on snow-covered lawn, fodder both for her writing and for her life. Or are they the same thing? [Picture by illustrator Adrianne Blair in Faith Baldwin's Face Toward the Spring.]
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