The lake was calm today. The warmth of the sun and a gentle breeze made it the perfect place to sit and watch the water dance. There’s always a thermos of coffee beside me when I’m here. I don’t know why, but it just seems to taste better by the lake.

While I watched the birds flying over the water, I found myself thinking about this little blog of mine.

It’s hard to believe there was a time when I didn’t even know what a blog was. It was a foreign word to me. If someone had asked me about blogging back then, I know I would have looked at them with a puzzled expression and asked them to explain it.

Yet here I am today.

Family and friends had been encouraging me for years to tell my story.

When I started this blog, my next stroke anniversary was only a few months away. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the people who still didn’t understand the warning signs of a stroke. Reaching more than the handful of people I already knew suddenly felt important.

After all, I had my stroke at the age of fifty. More than one doctor told me I was too young to have had one. I actually had to carry a copy of my MRI to prove it.

Fear kept getting in the way.

Then one day I remember thinking maybe I should try this blogging thing.

At the time, I wasn’t thinking about becoming a blogger.I figured I might write one post… maybe two… possibly three… and that would be enough.

My hope was that writing would help me become a better writer. My words were still a nightmare. Maybe writing would help people understand me a little better.

I had no idea that one simple decision would eventually lead me here.

When I first started writing, I was trying to explain myself to other people.

More than anything, I wanted them to understand that I was still me. My life had changed without warning, but I was still the same person.

Writing wasn’t easy.

The more I wrote, the more I found myself sharing parts of my life I hadn’t planned to write about.

One day I sat down to write, and my stroke wasn’t what was on my mind.

Instead, I was writing about living with fibromyalgia.

Another day it was an unexpected surgery.

Eventually, I found myself writing about putting my own plans on hold because someone in my family needed me.

Before long, I found myself writing about ordinary days, disappointments, little victories, dreams, and learning to enjoy life again.

I don’t think I noticed it happening at the time.

It was only when I looked back that I realized my stories had changed.

Then another thought crossed my mind.

Perhaps it wasn’t the stories that had changed.

I had.

For a long time, I thought I was trying to get my old life back.

Somewhere along the way, that changed.

I wanted more out of life.

Curiosity kept pulling me forward.

Learning became exciting again.

The things I loved started calling me back.

Every small step made me wonder where it might lead if I simply kept showing up.

Without even realizing it, this little blog was growing right alongside me.

That’s probably when I realized I didn’t want people to come here and read the same story over and over again.

I’ve always believed that every story deserves a second chapter.

That isn’t just the tagline for my website.

It’s what I believe about life.

Life keeps moving.

So do we.

There is always something new to learn, another way to grow, another dream waiting to be discovered.

Who would have thought that trying to tell one story would lead me to discover so many more?

I guess that’s what blogging has really given me.