Walking on Water by Liz Strauss SAMPLE PAGES

Walking on Water
I thought I needed thinking. Time. A place to
spread my mind, room for my soul.
I had read about a trucker who
would drive two states away when he
had things on his mind. He’d sit at a
picnic table by the Mississippi River
for as along as he needed and when
he was ready, he would drive home
again.
I didn’t have a picnic table by the
Mississippi River, but I had my car
and plenty of music to take me
wherever I needed to go.
It had been a long week.
Some weeks are longer than others. The ones with Monday holidays
seem longer for some reason. This five-day week was longer yet. The
five days, for all that I had to and did get done, seemed to drag and fly
at the same time, and I didn’t seem to be part of it.
I didn’t seem to be a part of anything. I just overachieved my way
through it. How long would I do this?
I wanted to ask everyone, “What do you want from me? I can't walk on
water.”
6
©2008 Liz Strauss All rights reserved


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24