. . . on the next leg of this journey . . .

Some new journey has begun. I can’t explain it. I can’t describe it. I can’t share the details because I am unsure of them and, too, some are far too private. Not for me, really; I no longer have a sense of privacy. I would tell everything and think nothing of it. But, others, they would be horrified. So, I will keep quiet that which others would consider a betrayal of their secrets, or, even, my details that those others think I should keep secret.


And though I am not private, much, and spent far too many years in the company of one who thought everything had to be a secret, even so, now, I have de-activated my Facebook. Not because I cared about what I shared, but because what others were sharing was making me insane. I thought I needed – on this new phase – a bit of distance.


So, I just spent two weeks in someone else’s home, with their dogs and cat. And today I start a new week in a new place, far out in the country, After which conclusion I will be spending eleven days at yet another home. After which I will return to this country one for a few days. After which I will return to the original home which started it all. After which I will be heading to a mountain home for a week with a new set of animals. After which I will be spending two weeks in a home in the downtown district while its inhabitants travel some or another continent.


After which it will be the middle of September. It will be seven months away from my birthday. For which I’ve already made plans. Plans which include the Algonquin and a glamorous end. I am winding down. I have a lot of writing and reading to get in before I’m done, but I think I am done.


One thought on “. . . on the next leg of this journey . . .

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