He Shows Up

I still don’t know where he came from.

When I started writing my book, really writing it and not just skirting around it, I realized something. Whenever things got too heavy, he showed up. Not all the time. Not when I expected him to. Just when it felt like more than I could carry. The accident. My life after. My father.

I couldn’t explain it. I still can’t. At some point, I realized I wasn’t talking myself down. It didn’t feel like my voice. It felt separate. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just there, like something stepped in when I couldn’t hold it together on my own.

When I started actually writing things down, it became harder to ignore. Every memory I avoided, something was already there. Not fixing it. Not changing what happened. Just softening it enough that I could stay in it.

When I felt alone or betrayed, when it felt like everything was working against me, there was something that kept me moving. Not a pep talk. Not pressure. It felt closer to love. Quieter. Steadier. Like a hand on my back.

I don’t know what it was. I still don’t. I just know I didn’t stop.

I didn’t mean to write Kevin. He wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was to write what happened and keep it grounded. Kevin doesn’t follow that plan. He shows up anyway.

And at some point, I stopped trying to make him.

I still don’t know if I created him or if he found me.

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