My favorite sound.
Winter hasn't been so bad this year. My view has changed though.
I write on my phone on an old futon in my brothers old room. The dogs stay with me. I do this once a week to save on gas and to catch up.
I wish I would write more. I wish I would write more for me.
Lately I've felt like I'm no longer really good at a couple of things. It's probably because I've slacked off or because I don't challenge myself enough.
If I were really good at a couple of new things it would be astronomy, baking tarts, naming the Olympic mountain peaks, and skipping stones.
It's a secret relief to know that I'm still amazing at parallel parking. As if I haven't left the city.
I don't want anything else for this year but to enjoy myself. Emphasis on myself.
We have focused more on growing in our spiritual relationship and so I feel it necessary to also get lost in the woods more. That's more well rounded for my taste.
If no one reads any of this will it matter to me?
Or do I fear more that no one will read it in several years when everything is different and its harder to understand or remember what I use to feel?
Today I walked out of the grocery store in the rain and passed an old man with a cane who was done with his cart. I asked if I could take that back for him and he smiled big. I did so then started to tear up in my car. Why?
The seed catalog came in the mail today. So much for waiting to see what grows.
This always, always feels good.
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