I may ramble here, as the bits and pieces in my head are not always logical, do not tumble out in order. They are usually connected, but sometimes only by a wispy thread.

Sometimes I go to grab them, but they swim out of focus, or I grab something meant for another bit and can’t make it fit together. Forgive the chaos.

What I mean to say goes something like this.

A longtime friend died too young last week. I am now in the thick of teenager parenting, floundering more and more each day. In the midst of this is middle age – surely I cannot be old enough to be dealing with teenaged offspring – was I not just one?

So it goes like this, bouncing from one thing to another. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes holding my breath til the next ball rolls along. In the flat bits and even better, the good bits, I am storing up little things because I know nothing stays the same. I will need these good bits again one day, and it may come sooner than I think.

I am banking things of comfort. The soft feel of flannel sheets on bare skin. Guests in my house. One-on-one conversations.

The value of a friend, old and new. A few extra dollars in the bank account when usually there are none. My family’s voices in another room on a Sunday night.

Matching socks. A well-made martini.

Candlelight.  An overgrown yard and garage full of possibility. My cookbooks.

Hearing “Mom” and realizing that means me. Running a business that means something to people.

This place, where I put some words and sometimes people read them.


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