Leslie A. Davidson

I have always been a writer though sometimes much more in my head than on paper. I firmly believe that time served in the imagination counts. In retirement, I finally found the time and energy to set down on paper the stories that had been impatiently tapping at the edge of my consciousness throughout the chaotic years of teaching and parenting.

When I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease, just months before learning that my husband was living with a younger-onset form of dementia, writing became an urgent need. Nothing focuses brain cells more effectively than the fear of losing them.

I started writing nonfiction at a time when the only way to make sense of the hard changes in our lives was to spill all the thoughts and feelings onto the page. Through the writing-it-down, it became so very clear to me that I am richly blessed, life can be hard, family and friends are everything, sorrow does not deny joy, and stories matter. And that is why I continue to write. For me. And, I hope that, every once in a while, something that I write touches someone else in a place of connection, a place that recognizes something shared. We can be so alone in this world. We don’t have to be. That’s why I write.