Realization.

I am an author.

Whether or not I am a good author is beside the point.  I have successfully written a book.  Sure, it may be just the rough draft, but still.  Those 56,047 words?  They are mine.  And that is an amazing feeling. 

The moment I finished I sat down and took a deep breath.  I then picked up the phone and made my first phone call.  It came out factually, yet the moment the words escaped me and I heard what I said, I started to cry. 

The same thing happened to me five years in the Palau International Airport.  My buddies from the Camp Micronesia project had just gotten on the plane to leave and I walked out of the departure gate, let out a long breath, and sat on the floor and cried.  That had been months in the making and then a two month full time experience.  This project, my book, has also been months in the making.  Nine months so far.  I have come to realize that these tears are the best way my body can express what it needs to so desperately express: relief, pride, exhaustion... all three rolled into one. 

The tears didn't last for long, however, because I was too exhausted to cry anymore.  The final day, I had sat there for five hours writing.  That is enough to pretty much take you out.  And it did.  But the next day, when I was bright eyed and awake again, it hit me again.  One step down, the longest lasting step hopefully, and I am one my way.  Now onto revising and rewriting and editing and all that.  First, however, I am giving myself a week off.  I think I deserve it! :)