For three months, I’ve lied to my husband.
I told him I had a speaking engagement in Georgia, and I didn’t.
But we drove anyway.
And we arrived at one of my favorite places in the world; a farm where I mourned the loss of a dear friend, have been loved and have loved. Where I wrote a big chunk of my next book and burned a few of my demons, committing their ashes to the bottom of a lake.
Sometimes, lying is okay.
Sometimes, taking a break is too.
Be back Friday.