Real People

Some days I want to be around real people, people who love who they are and have no urge to become someone else, someone others say they should be. They are the people who move from apartments in high-rise buildings near trendy restaurants to mobile homes in the desert, where the nearest grocery store is ninety miles away. They are the ones who laugh off derisive comments about their poverty and lifestyle, recognizing them as ignorance or envy.

When I am around real people, I understand just how far I have to go to become one.

Last night, I heard a retired Air Force flight surgeon tell tales from his life, all of which he recorded in a book he published about four years ago.  He is one of the real people, though he’s not one who lives in a mobile home in the desert.  I don’t know him well enough to say this with certainty, you understand, by my gut says it’s so.

If you write your story, the real story; if you write it from your heart and push through the pain that’s bound to arise from telling it, you’ll be a real person.  I just know it.  In my gut.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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4 Responses to Real People

  1. Thank you, Millie. I appreciate your comment more than you can know.

  2. Millie says:

    I recognize when you are pushing through the pain in your writing. I’m always moved by it.

  3. I’m getting closer to writing a book, Pauline. I’m not sure I can “show the way,” but I can, at least, express a perspective.

  4. This bis a message to yourself, John. Write your own book from you real self perspective. Show others how to do it.

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