I wrote something I didn't like.
It tried to say what I felt, but it was still rough and clumsy. And it seemed unfair.
I'll say something else instead.
I'll say that the sky is blue right now, a clear simple blue so pure and unbroken that it is almost colorless, simply a huge space above all our heads. I'll say that the wind stirs the trees and drops a shadow back and forth across the dusty window screen. I'll say that it is Friday. A good night to tuck a blanket over your feet and watch a movie from the couch. Get a big bowl of popcorn and add some butter and salt, and eat it by the handful instead of a balanced dinner.
And I'll promise to write something else tomorrow. To awaken and use my craft. To put my skill towards creation, because if you have skill, then creation is a duty of sorts. I'm not sure I've lived up to my part of the bargain in that department. I've let my stories idle on a back burner while I focused on survival. But stories are a part of survival too. Stories are necessary, and they are a good gift for others going through life along with us. Giving and sharing - that's what it's all about. Not money, not things, not even time -- instead, what matters is how kind we are to each other, how well we treat each other, and how much we give and receive, share and accept. How we as(sign) and re(sign) ourselves to each other and to the path of our lives.