I found the title for Talking to the Sky one night when I was walking around in our driveway.

I'd been working on my memoir for three or four years and still had no idea what to call it. Nothing felt right. 

I looked up at the stars and asked, "what am I gonna call this book?"

That's when it hit me— TALKING TO THE SKY. The Sky is where I have always gone, when I had questions that were too big to ask anybody else, and when I felt lost in my life.

As a kid, when I felt powerless and alone, I loved to climb a tree or lay on a towel in the yard and stare up at the clouds and dream. The Sky was kinda like my imaginary friend. In the daytime, I liked to pretend she had on her favorite faded jeans and a white cotton T-shirt, then at night, she wore a little black dress and all her bling. 

I went to the Sky when I was a teenager — the night I almost ended my life before it had even begun. And again, the night my first husband beat me up and bit me in the face. 

I'm not sure who I'm talking to — God, The Universe, Angels, My Dad. But, I believe something somewhere is listening to our prayers.