I’ve spent the past several days doing some much needed thinking and introspection
and although I’ve yet to glean anything remotely resembling an answer, I have realized a few things:
I spend far too much of my time doing what I ‘think’ I should be doing opposed to what my own reality dictates.
My all too patient wife has been a ‘blogging widow’ for far too long and that must change.
She’s given me 3+ years of virtually bitch free blogging, a bonus for anyone bitten by the bug.
She does feel that my time would be better spent writing and working on this book of mine that has somehow floated too far offshore for me to easily rescue it.
But rescue it I will. (Do I sound like Yoda?)
I am not, I repeat, not done blogging.
Far from it, if that’s what you may be thinking.
But I have realized that it’s time for me to spill some fresh ink on my farfetched dream of one day being a published writer.
I am treading water for reasons that no longer elude me.
I am afraid my writing will ultimately fail.
Not a strange fear, I guess.
It’s too easy not to fail when you stay within the confines of a blog where
the people that read care for you and your artistic feelings.
That’s not too say that most comments are fluff, they are definitely not.
I feel that my words reach deep inside many people and I am truly blessed in the way your thoughts come back to me, amazed sometimes.
Although I’m still not sure of this blog’s ultimate direction some days, I do know it’s overall integrity will benefit from me doing what I originally set out to do.
I sincerely thank all of you for your thoughts, prayers and comments this past week or so.
I’ve read every single one.
It’s time for me to stop treading water and start swimming . . .
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*On another note, several people have asked about my father since I haven’t mentioned him lately.
I went to see him this past Sunday after a phone call from my sister who happened to be visiting him.
Pamela and I found them both sitting outside the confines of the nursing home taking in the sun.
It was around lunchtime and my sister Moe suggested that we feed him lunch al fresco, that he might enjoy the change of scenery.
I agreed and went to retrieve his lunch which was warmly sitting somewhere on the third floor.
The warmth of the sun felt so good and so right, as I fed my father while Pamela, myself and my sister talked.
I was happy with not only the way he looked but the way he devoured his lunch.
With a nice big slice of coconut crème pie for dessert, I was secretly hoping he’d be too full to eat it.
He ate the entire piece, a small, good thing, I guess.
I can’t tell you how nice it was sitting there in the sunshine watching my father actually enjoy a meal.
Maybe he knew Maureen and I were there.
The saddest part is how infrequent my visits have become.
Working for a living sucks.
But I have promises to keep.
All three of us wheeled my father back to the prison inside and into his room on 3 North.
I gave my sister a hug and a kiss on the cheek and headed home to watch some of the Patriots game before getting supper started.
My sister was staying a bit longer to give Dad a shave.
Walter had a very nice Sunday.
Come to think of it, so did my sister, Pamela and I.
For those on my blogroll, I will be stopping by . . .