It is a lazy, chilly Friday. I had not intended to blog today but the voice of my middle son comes through, just write. There are stories everywhere; in my kitchen where a cabinet houses my grandmother’s white china with delicate green and purple flowers around the rim, in the burl dining room table I bought in the early 1980’s and love despite the many scratches and stains years of use have inflicted, in the silver candlestick holders that belonged to great grandparents I have never met. 

The weekend provides the fodder for stories yet to come. Tomorrow a writer’s group meeting in the city and dinner somewhere as of yet unplanned. I will be meeting a friend I’ve known since I was 12, to celebrate a decades old relationship. My life seems a contradiction in terms (it always did). I am surrounded by a protective coating that allows for my vulnerability. Somehow, within this environment, I thrive. Not without pain, sadness, frustration or despair, but in spite of, perhaps because of… without one, how would I recognize the other? Reaching deep, my roots and experiences contain a learning from which to draw, and staying open to the world, inspiration, creativity and love may flow. It’s a balance that works, at least for today.

Thanks for stopping by.