I’ve gotten a surprising amount of work done today and it’s not even noon time. All but a few of the clothes were washed this morning and are drying on the line. I also ran some errands in McRae, Georgia; then drove back in the opposite direction to Mount Vernon, Georgia for a doctor’s appointment. Now here it is a little after noon and I’m sitting outside soaking me up some vitamin D. All and all I’d have to say it’s been a pretty productive day.
I suppose it doesn’t sound very inspiring or riveting to hear the tales of a sad old Southern refugee like myself. But as I have stated before, I’m writing for me more than anyone else. Recently I’ve been laser focused on finishing another collection of my stories. This one’s titled, “Footprints in the Sand” and it consist of some 300 pages of my half-ass tales of woe and feeble attempts at poetry. It may not be my best work, but I’ll leave that up to fate to decide.
At one point or another, I’ve carried a lot burdens. I worried and labored over the lives of others till the very weight of it nearly killed me. But at my very point of breakage I finally got to stare at my worse fear face to face, and you know what? I wasn’t afraid anymore. Life has a funny way of teaching us the lessons we need to hear. The sad part is that many of us don’t take the time to listen. We thank our maker for allowing us to dodge another bullet. Never realizing there wouldn’t be any bullets to dodge, if we’d only listened. Life is what you make of it, good or bad, face it with confidence and presence. Especially when you’re afraid.
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