Don't Need Another Perfect Line...

You could be dead.

Or hurt.

Or living a fantastic new life somewhere warm.

Or just living the life you had when I knew you.

You could be anywhere.

But you weren't where I last saw you. Or where you saw me.

Come to think of it, maybe we weren't there, either.

Maybe we were already gone and didn't know it.

Or maybe we were just waiting.

I'm starting fresh. Like you said we should.

But you could be dead. Or I could be.

Nah, I'm sure we're alive. If for no other reason than I believe in the hope that only children have a right to hold onto.

Just because.

(photo image from goggleearth.com image databank; uncredited)

You've Got To Know When To Hold 'Em...

Four years.

That's how long I've been blogging.

I've done it all. Politics, humor, relationships, parenting.

Love found and love lost.

In all of that time there has never been a time where I could write for myself. I always hedged. Always.

Depending on who was reading, I'd get a lot of push-back for the things I said.

If I seemed unhappy, I was asked why and I didn't always know the answer.

If I seemed happy I was asked why and I couldn't always share.
When I came back from Paris recently I just knew it was time to change. Time to go. I waited until a number of us went to Vegas and decided it was the right time.

Kenny Rogers knew what he was talking about.

Time for a fresh start. Time to remove the vague writing and metaphors. Time to just write what I want.

I'm a bit scared. What if I can't do it? What if, like my first post was afraid of four years ago...I have nothing to say.

Oh, well. Never stopped me before!