You know I would write if I could.
I had 'surprise' eye surgery on Wednesday and haven't been able to write here... let alone anywhere else.
The patch has come off. I have salivated for this day.
I also moved a couple weeks ago. Going through boxes and boxes of paperwork drove my nose to sneezes. Keeping the tissue box nearby, I went through another box today. It contained old stories. My gosh. I wanted to weep as I read them.
I know I've spoken of this before, but I cannot understand authors who cringe when confronted with 'old' writings. The stories I read today were all from seven to ten years ago. I still love them. I am not a doddering fool in that I refuse to see flaws in what I wrote (or put that in present tense). Their were definitely errors. The POVs were funny. The descriptions flaccid. But the stories overall still spoke to me. This hoard of old tales touched my heart. I wanted to weep and fly at the same time.
Life is incredibly good.