I always wanted to write things that would speak to people in a positive way, but I’ve found over the years it doesn’t always work out that way.
Seems people have this thing between my written or spoken words that reinterprets what I write or say. It’s like their little translator like they wore on Star Trek was on the wrong frequency.
I’ll admit that I can write controversial subjects, but it’s all me. My “discretion” button gets turned off. I’m reaching the age of the curmudgeon I suppose.
Today was a day of reflection. I’ve not felt well and it has brought me to a down-time day. Time to rest and think.
First and foremost, I must assure my connection to God. That statement alone can raise eyebrows on the unbelieving folks. I’m quite sure there is a higher power to help people like me to fjord the rushing streams of life that keep us from crossing to the other side of situations and put them to rest.
I’m solid in my relationship with Libby Lewis Rowe. I know every light spot and dark corner of her life as she does with me. I am totally satisfied with her. I know her baggage and what’s in it. She knows mine and unfortunately we find occasion to open one another’s bags and find ourselves dealing with it, but we also know how to put that stuff back in the bags and put them away.
I’ve seen her niece, who looks strikingly like Libby. I see pictures of her and her new beau and can’t help seeing the stark likenesses between us four. I only hope she and her beau can continue to grow as Libby and I have been able to.
Libby’s daughter seems to have found the one man who creates an impression on her that has kept soundly making impressive comments. He appears to be a man of character and knows her needs.
I only wish my sons could be open enough with me to understand I don’t mean them harm or division. One speaks to me in guarded ways that won’t allow me to fully enjoy his company. The other doesn’t speak to me at all. It’s been over seven years.
It makes me sad.