I feel like I am writing you this from fifty years away.
I watched the debate and wondered what you thought.
I watched the Cubs floundering post-season efforts, and wondered what you thought.
I dug a photo of you out of the closet, full in frame, and wondered what you look like.
I hope, sincerely (and I mean it) that you are happy, and from the handicapped observations that I can make, I think you are.
There’s just an itch at the end of the day, and it’s dying, that I feel only you can scratch (and I know that’s not true).
I just miss seeing you and hope that we will find a way to make that happen one day. You meeting mine. Me meeting yours. Us looking into each other’s eyes and knowing we made the right decision, without regrets.
i like the look of gblog and bullpencatcher.
yes, i am happy, but still these messages from you make me wonder and panic. i hope that’s normal.
Just simple template changes.
Don’t panic. I don’t understand panic? Wonder, yes. Panic, no.
I am much happier too. Have found my Zen ways again and am just taking the road without worrying so much. I don’t know where I will end up at the end of the day (Karen, someone else, or even you) but I am content in knowing that I will find contentment (mouthful!).