I’ll be there

It’s a sad, sad day when a writer thinks/feels/believes/says they have nothing left to say.

For awhile, that’s probably what it looked like to you, my dear readers, when I just stopped writing. But you know that couldn’t possibly be true. If anything, I have had so much to say that I haven’t known where to start. Then there’s that peculiar dilemma when you have a personal blog and you want to share yourself and your life from anybody who is kind enough to select themselves as one of your readers but on the other hand, there is privacy and you don’t want to necessarily just put yourself out there for the entire Internet to read …

Self censorship is the hardest kind — or, to say the inverse, while I’m trying to figure out how much to say, it becomes much simpler to simply say nothing.

Kimmie has come home. She had excellent reasons for it that do not involve abuse by her significant other or anything else dreadful or dramatic. She made it official a few days ago when she brought Clyde back to my house. That’s the thing with Kimmie. She lives wherever her cat is.

Gina is coming home. Things didn’t work out the way she had hoped in Mexico. I will help her before and after she gets here because I can see that she needs help. By the time your kids are the ages of Gina and Kimmie, perhaps the most important thing you can do for them as a parent is to give them a safe place where they can take a few breaths and get back on their feet when they need to. Gina is coming home for some breathing room.

Ricky is an adult. He turned 18 years old one week ago today. I was actually planning to come in here that day and reminisce about how he entered the world but I somehow couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I was pretty busy that day, between cake and his specially requested birthday dinner. He is scheduled to graduate from high school in a few weeks, and then it will be time for his next great adventure to start. Of course, he doesn’t know what that next great adventure will be. Neither do I. And also of course, he’s kind of scared. But that’s okay … like his sisters, he won’t be flying without a net. I’m still here.

And I guess that’s what’s going on with me right now … at least in part. I’m busy being a port in a storm for my kids and happy that I can do that for them. I could have really used a port in a storm back when I was their ages.

There are other things happening for me but they aren’t front and center right now. I am still pining to head off to graduate school and eventually I’m going to. I’m not getting paid enough for what I do but, in justice to everybody, neither is my boss. I suspect that might have something to do with gender but I’m not in the mood to start that fight right this second. Let’s just say that I’m not getting paid enough money to stay where I am any longer than it takes to get accepted somewhere. More on that later.

It’s more or less summer and I’m feeling pretty mellow, in spite of the fact that my weekday life is anything but. I’d like to get back into the habit of talking to you on a somewhat regular basis. I’d like to get back into the habit of posting chapters of Children of Chaos for your reading pleasure. I’d like to get back into the habit of writing … because I have things to say.