It’s getting to that end of year time when we start to think about another year gone by. We wonder what next year will be like and what we want it to be like. What do we need to do or change to make next year better than this year? But I don’t know, 2015 was pretty good.
I write, because I lose myself and the world around me when I don’t. It feels like creation. Like evidence that I’m still here and there is time.
Putting a brave face on is neither good or bad. It helps us get through challenges and feel a bit braver inside. But then what?
I’m a little embarrassed about yesterday’s post. I’m a quiet, private kind of girl. A Zen dog — the kind of dog that Maery needs. Latte on the other hand is a Zany dog. She and Maery are a bit too alike to be good for each other in large doses. The whole bathroom thing…
I’ve been obsessively writing for a few weeks. I’ve entered a secret world of words that I can get lost in for hours. Picture some kind of matrix scene where probes are attached to my head and I’m twitching and people are shaking me and yelling, “Maery! Maery! Wake up!”