A late night thought.

I met him when I was six. They ran and played together. I sat alone and wrote in my diary. I wrote books that I could never finish. I’d illustrate the cover, and give it a title. I’d number all the pages and make sure the book was sturdy before ever giving thought to the words needed. I’d save the story for last. Too often I would write a story and leave out the middle and end.

“Don’t worry little book,” I’d say, “I’ll finish you someday.”

But I never did. I never did finish that little book about my dog and my cat. I started several new ones, never to have an end. I met him as a child, we left him soon after, but he remained a reminder of a pleasant time in my life. Seeing him much later, threw me back into the days that my family was whole and happy. It was a warm, sad feeling. My mind loves to wonder and wander and write my life away. What I write is true.

The image of a lonely child climbing up a tree. She sits upon it content, because she is free.  She waits for her savior to bring her home, and take away the feeling of being left alone.

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Working on this idea…

Stranded, a mind has no where to go, but back. Into the past, into the darkness that got it trapped in the first place. While it is on it’s way back, I invite you to read about a memory, something lovely, sweet, and painful. Abandoned. How did I end up abandoned?

A road, parallel to ours, created a path for the cars; for the people. All of them on their way to somewhere. Perhaps no where. Maybe here? Music provoking more thought. More thoughts of games once played. Songs I’d sing remembering the hills and grass as they would blur against my window. A window of memories. I’ve reached my hand into the glass before.

This is me. Soft reflection. Imperfections visible enough for me to notice them, and let them be.

A car window reveals more than I wish to know.