I had an ironic realization just now. This weekend – Memorial Weekend – has always represented when I write like a mad man the entire time. The difference is I had no wife, so everything I wrote would have to wait before I could post in my website, my blog. I actually couldn’t wait because I was always writing to someone I wanted to read my words. I suppose you could that readership, but my hope was singular.
So since the beginning of the year, I have had to face demons I could no longer control. I knew I had support, but I didn’t know how long it would last. So this weekend I am lost. I have lost, and I cannot seem to find my way into the heart of people I have cared about both in the present and the past.
My writing was always for you. I couldn’t wait to post it so you could see where my mind was all weekend. Now today, I’m given the opportunity to immediately post my ideas, and suddenly I realized I have been doing it all weekend with a fever pitch.
That means something to me, the difference being this time I am here and I am not away.
© Scott F. Savage 5/2020