It’s a game where there is no winning, only the joy in the odd and unexplained.
Maybe the art was in the refashioning of otherwise useless things.
That was the first time I realized that just because you put something in print doesn’t make it any better than it was from the start.
I started to learn that to write is to live, and you can’t do much of the former without the latter.
Early morning walks from the cottage in January as the light is coming on earlier day by day.
Knowing we had it good then but not realizing how much.
I remembered what it was like to leap out of bed with an eagerness for the day but that feeling was long gone.
One day it will be like this for me I thought.
That jig-saw view of life taken apart, put back together.
It is this time, I think to myself on the couch, that I will want to keep with me forever.