A reoccurring theme this year, over several years, really the whole of my life, or most of it. As we close out the year, reflecting back, the last couple, ‘20, ‘21, quite a doozy they’ve been.
Just now? Sitting in darkened room, morning light sneaking through still-drawn curtains, rocking chair in the corner, listening to my youngest stir in her last throws of slumber.
She came in near Midnight, afraid of something; then proceeded to take up most of my bed the rest of the night. She woke me a couple of times because I was snoring.
Last couple days of time off, days run together with three kids in the house and rainy outside most of the time; got out when we could, can, for some minor adventures. Most time together since their mom moved out, divorce final a couple weeks back.
And so what do I do just now? Just about nearly for sure every day? I write it down. A few lines, scribbled down. It’s the right way for me, the write way.
I’ve wandered through a varied career centered on business and people and how to get things done. It’s been nearly exactly what I’d thought I didn’t want. But it’s what I’ve got.
What I’ve made of it? A living, a lot of learning, good times along the way, good friends too, here and there, it’s been a life made the most of what has come. I think. I hope.
Why am I? Who am I? Why write? I’m a counselor, a cheerleader, in a commercial career? What’s right about that? Honest path to the forks in the road. And so now of late some several years in this ether space, scribble it all down and share it all out, to capture the times, the thoughts, maybe just maybe, a little worth it.
Worth it for me, for sure. I know I know, good to go. It’s the write way, and let them judge, down the road a ways, or just around the bend, whenever it will be let it be,
Ok, all ok, whatever the feedback, response, reaction, let it be, all ok.
Daughter stirs and I pause, a sniffle, she blows her nose — like her old man, oft congested — and then burrows deep under cover again, again to slumber, vacation mornings, that sleep is best when warm, thick, extended.
And so another scribble complete, captured the moment, the year, the last couple, some of it anyway,
and more will come soon, when I write again, my truth, or part of it anyway, some to say and more tell and the words will keep spilling from my tongue,
And what ‘22 will bring? More wandering, more learning and cheering and doing, surly more of Jeff’s ponderings, ok ok, all ok,
The write way.