I didn’t do last week’s Friday Fictioneers. I will admit, I was too caught up in other projects. Which is a shame; the prompt picture was quite lovely. But life had to take precedence.
Life has changed quite a bit in the last five months. The move was just the tip of the iceberg.
11 July 2014 at 12:35AM PDT is the 12th anniversary of my father’s death.
I try to make it a point to stay up, a Memento Mori for the man who shaped my life, in ways good and bad. I tend to stay up to see the clock tick past the moment more often than I go to his grave in the following 24 hours.
Night owls, he and I.
It is from him that I learned the bad habit of staying up far too late, reading until I drift to sleep anywhere but in bed.
He nurtured my love of the wild, untamed mountains that edge my home state. Of the trees reaching impossibly high into the star-filled nights, the sound of crickets in my ears and the smell of bear grass in my nose.
He gifted my sharp tongue, my love of horrible puns, my slow to simmer but quick to boil temper.
He told me to find my stories, to craft them carefully. Even if they were just for me.
I miss him terribly.
I’ve mentioned Dr. And Mrs. W before; the lovely older couple I work for in the mornings.
On Tuesday, Mrs. W passed. It was fast, and peaceful.
She will be horribly, horribly missed.
I had plans to write every day, or almost every day, when I started this blog.
It’s amazing how quickly plans fall to the wayside.
I had the time. I had the inclination. But the fresh .doc file stayed closed.
Plus: life. Continue reading
I should probably introduce the crew around here before I go any further. Continue reading