When I turned the corner into my neighborhood, I was struck by this small little home perched high above the boulevard. Wedged safely between two wishbone-like branches, the nest was wholly visible in boughs that had not yet blossomed.

It occurred to me that in the height of summer when last those twigs held a family, it was protected by leaves, hidden in vivid green. A passer-by, unless twisting purposefully for a glance, would not have seen it. A neighbor steering a car down the road would certainly not have been afforded a clear view.

Yet, it was there the whole time.

I feel the same can be said about me and this dream to write.

For years, perhaps since I first won the Young Author’s conference in elementary school or that essay contest for a college scholarship, this desire was present but hidden in plain sight. The vivid green of life and family, the blossoming leaves of a job, and the expectations of others and myself kept it wrapped up and tucked away like the secret creature held in a chrysalis.

Today, with the introduction of this blog, I am taking a step forward to unveil it. To name what has always been. To call out the thing that was once hidden. To see clearly that which for so long has been out of view. Unnamed. Unseen.

Today, I am claiming my bird nest and searching for the courage to find my wings.

I’m ready to fly.