I cling to my memories. Fondly. Some days. Other days, I just sail through, making new ones. Just so you don't think I live in yesterday. That would be extremely depressing, in my opinion.

I swirled the coffee in its cup this morning, thinking of my mom and how she enjoyed the ritual of that first cup of coffee in these cups. I sat there in my chair, perhaps a little expectantly, waiting for the sadness to wash over me. Yet, it didn't.

2ai8Wx7yRZDoSCrg5mLgNZ4ruAF3ykPLgpToX7DGfPHVKiSsujkzd5xzwS8XHbBDYpx9VZMuymrxA9pye7hUXcyRQW5DciYLEb3YoHoG7vMoREHE9uspo4vbqwVpdN3Pvz7q9bX2k6kGWkBavvkxVjgpqXE9jFr1TQtKVrVZLagG11grisA4oJWWSERQsS73iBv13pMaLGv7dt72hfUn3.jpg

In some ways, I am thankful that she does not have to bear witness to this mess. Perhaps it is the State of our World, where my parents, particularly my mother, would shield me and my siblings from the unnecessary violence the news brought to our living room. Today, it does not embarrass me one bit to say that I miss that part of my Mom.

Le Sigh

Of course, I know that there is a downside to shielding one's children, guiding them through these things, lest they get taught them from their friends, social media, or the like. Ironic, isn't it? To be taught by the very thing you feel like you are protecting them from? In spite of it all, you can still convey that sense of safety.

Just thinking about this comes with a torrent of emotions that swirl inside of me like the perfect storm. Sweet memories and few regrets. So, I guess it would be okay to still want that protective shield covering me once again.

Zskj9C56UonWToSX8tGXNY8jeXKSedJ2aRhGRj6HDecqrjNrZkJwLbTeHemLAbkHZHJSCGFZEcszGNG2S8W51dm4sKYHezxkP1n7T3U1zg6XdNSG5rAA.jpg

source

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

It’s my way. I walk out to the deep end of the page and dive right in

9vWp6aU4y8kwSZ9Gw15LFL3aMdhmgmBBFMpDJregpdP329arFEpSSdxgJWAzbjjTZoLzb4NCxEDosT9kWtiqgc74KC1Q5ZPNbhr7mAwpDaXUxWparYUfTh4h498hCArmuTh3sbZzBF6J4kNp6.jpg

As always, a flower, to color my world. #alwaysaflower As a matter of fact, It was Henry Matisse who once said, "There is always flowers for those that want to see one."

Coffee Thoughts at this Hour

Facebook

Twitter

Instagram