In the Privacy of My Own Blog
I think by now no one is listening.
Ah, back to basics.
Today was Thanksgiving, and filled with thanks, and angst, and work, and the sadness of transitions.
My daughter brought her boyfriend over, and he is much older, but so young, so very young. Full of excitement about what lies ahead, and who am I to explain the truth to him? Let them have their hope. For me, I settle for wine, more and more as the weeks pass, and I question its danger, its slippery slope-ness, but I don’t feel it anymore. I could sleep longer each night and not miss the daylight hours.
I realize this could go badly, but I’m at peace, mostly.
Except sometimes I feel my heart struggle a little bit to beat, and I think, what if this is it? What if I never do anything more than this?
And it’s not enough. It’s not enough at all.
If I do this a lot, I’ll get better, if I don’t do it at all, I’ll get worse.
This is me, getting better.
Yours is the only blog in the Blog O’ Sphere that, whenever I come back and visit, I remember how much I love and miss your writing.
Then I usually end up spending the next hour or so rereading your entries.
WTF…you don’t come back to mine again and again? Geez.
Thank goodness for RSS readers so I don’t miss a post. Drop the wine glass and have a little real fun!
Hey, You know already what sickeningly stereotypical uplifting thig I could type here, So I’m not going to bother. However, perhaps instead of clinging to your wine, you could try my addiction. Find something wrong with the world (this parts easy) then try to fix with your whole little heart, unlike wine, it never runs out, there is always something to fix and you can drink up your richeousness allow it to make you feel you have a purpose: knowing secretly all along you can’t fix it so it’s not really like you failed is it?