When I was a child, I was the artistic sort. I wrote my first short story—with illustrations, mind you—before I made it to second grade. At the time, because everyone should be making big life choices before second grade (naturally), I was torn as to whether I was more of a writer or more of an illustrator. In the end, writing stayed with me a bit longer…most likely because my writing became more sophisticated with age, but my sketching never did!

I still take to drawing occasionally. Well actually, I take to drawing more than just occasionally if you count all of the doodles I scribble on scrap paper while in phone conferences. Roll your eyes all you want…everyone is always surprised at all the information I retain without taking notes in those meetings! (It works!) The little doodle over to the right was Sophie-inspired, but with an extra-fluffy, excited-looking tail because that's how I like 'em.

I'm always a little surprised what I end up doodling when I dedicate my logic elsewhere.

Anyway, I always had fanciful stories in my head as a child. I wanted so badly to tell my mom all about the fantasies living in my mind, but I often felt frustrated because I didn't have the words to paint the stories well enough. I wanted everyone to see the faerie prince enchant all those flowers at dawn so that they would open and sing for the butterflies—but since I didn't have the words, I tried to recreate the image. I filled entire sketchbooks with my imagination.

I wonder, at what age do we stop seeing the unseen? If I still see, I've stopped acknowledging. The ability to run alongside your imagination is a gift that we have for such a short time, and I wish I still had those sketchbooks. I think they would be refreshing in contrast to my realistic, easily-described, all-business world. Hopefully I'll "wake up" from a phone conference one day and find that the faerie prince still lives in me after all.

Tomorrow morning, Nick and I are traveling to the Minneapolis-area where we will spend the weekend. I don't know why we can't seem to plan a trip to Minnesota in the summer, but it is what it is. When we firmed up plans, I knew there was one person who I had to see: my sweet and talented friend, Anna.

When I first met Anna, I remember being a scared college freshmen who had to move into the empty dorms early because I had training to attend (I was a consultant in the campus computer labs). She was that tall girl who lived across the hall (of course everyone seems tall to me). She had to move in early too, and hers was one of the first new faces that I remember seeing.

Once everyone moved in, the occupants of our two rooms (Anna, Amy, Sarah, and me) became great friends. We used to keep our doors open so we could call across to each other, and I remember how much we laughed. We were the only "blue" rooms in our wing who were pulling for Gore to win—if anyone starts talking about hanging chads, I'm going to get all twitchy, so just stop right there. Surely the solidarity of our political beliefs alone would have bonded us, but we actually had a general affection for each other.

At some point during that year, Anna gave me the address to her blog. A public diary. Silly Anna…diaries aren't public; diaries are sold with locks and keys. While the concept was foreign to me, Anna is an entertaining writer and quite humorous in her storytelling—I started and never stopped reading…even after my life went in a different direction than hers.

She is the one who gave me the idea to keep one of these blog…things. When I was trying to figure out a way to keep my family in my life from a thousand miles away, this was the first thing that came to mind. After all, I felt like I was still living across the hall from Anna because I knew what was going on in her life. This blog bridged many miles and helped me feel like I wasn't quite so far away from everyone I knew and cared for.

And here we are today, still writing. I have seen Anna exactly once since 2002, but it feels like she lives just across the road. Sharing your life: it can be intimidating. It's sometimes exposing and always personal…but it doesn't make you vulnerable.

Sharing your life opens you to love. See you soon, Anna!