Short post, today.
Bad case of the jim-jams. The what-ifs.
To bed too early. Woke in the middle of the night, worrying about a dear friend’s furry buddy…and from there, about everything else. Woke in a space too big for me, holding on to my possibilities by my fingernails. Noisy head. Noisy night.
The only thing I could refuse to worry about: the writing. So that’s where I’ll go. To where the certainties are. To where an errant scratch doesn’t do harm to a sweet and curious pup. To where life is manageable.
To the writing.
If you want me today, you’ll find me there.