Somehow it’s been months since I wrote with regularity, and
I can’t give you a solid reason why. Perhaps
because coming o u t [to my parents]
was a big focus of mine, and now that I started
I don’t know how to proceed. The stress
of the initial conversation has lifted, and I am left
with the regular, daily work, and the need
for further conversations. But sometimes,
it’s just nice to breathe, and hunker
I’m not done. The work is not
done. But I’m alive, and perhaps
that (continuing) is as how it should be.
Did I tell you a year ago I learned a favorite author has Lyme?
I know I did not tell you
a friend was diagnosed with Lyme.
They keep shining, Les,
and every day, I think we all try
to do the best
we can at the time.