Eleven years ago, when my family was on sabbatical in Tiburon, California, I wrote Birthmarked, my first young adult novel. I would often take walks in the afternoon while my children were at school, and my path led me into the grassy hills, past Old St. Hilary’s and copious poppies. Sometimes, when I was stuck in a plot snag, the walking would loosen up a new idea for me to try, and to this day, I feel grateful to those hills.
I returned to the same trail for a visit yesterday, and the views were as beautiful and inspiring as ever. I’ve changed since then, and the world has, too. My hope has been tested, but it keeps coming back, stronger than ever. Those bright hills remind me we’ll find our way.