love
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For weeks, I’ve been mulling over the post you’re about to dive into. Should I be my unapologetically honest self, or slap a layer of sugar on my words to fit into the molasses-drenched commentary of today’s so-called enlightened society? I went with the former, so if you can’t handle it, well, that’s just too
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I have made the decision to return to writing daily. Why, you ask? Because I’m uncertain how much longer I have the luxury of doing so. At the ripe age of 73, while in admirable health and among the few septuagenarians who remain blissfully free of prescription medications, I find myself pondering the passage of
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Words fall short of capturing his true essence. If only the strength of love could have anchored him here, but now he’s gone. He was never merely an animal to me; he was a steadfast companion whose very presence became a lifeline I perhaps leaned on too heavily. Day and night, he stood loyally by
Old Man Pondering 