Am I fading into the woodwork? I’m beginning to feel invisible. My voice evaporates in the conversation; I’m not sure I’m invited to the table any longer.   
I remember sitting with my own gray-haired relatives, soaking in their wisdom, their rich history. Will mine ever be received or has the lure of the screen finally buried my generation’s treasury?
My soul is lonely this holiday season, but this I’ve rediscovered: without a voice, I will wither.
 “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” Maya Angelou