I will go to a gathering in an hour. There I will sit, maskless. Then I will go to the store, maskless. I will hug people, but I won’t hold their hand. We were all suppose to be on the brink of death, just a few short days ago. Now we’re back to the mass murders across the country, and single deaths on the Northside. What happened?
Here on Amelia Island, it’s like living in an ant bed. No family talks to me, with the exception of one sister. According to the older sisters, she is my brain.
And down south, my babies sound so sweet. They are loving, kind and respectful.
It was suggested I get drugs to cope. OMG
You know drugs-the ones that everyone does, but say they do nothing. Huh?
They will stop your tears. They will help you process your grief. Huh?
I know what I have to do. It’s called, pulling yourself together.
But, I can’t do it by myself. And I can’t do it by acting on insane advice.
I walk a slow path.
I trudge a road to a happy destiny.
And if I find the man who stole my husband’s shoes last night. I am going to steal them back.
- A side note – Once I lent a surfboard to a young guy to surf. He said he left it under the dock and someone stole it. I think he was lying and sold it. I didn’t care about that board or I would never have lent it to him. Months later, I paddled out and there was a pack of kids, and one of them was on my board. I paddled over, grabbed it and told him, to give it back, or I was calling the police. He gave it back.
- Another time, my bike was stolen. I let it go. Then driving home from my meeting, some guy was riding it on the sidewalk, by the marsh. I crossed the road and went up on the sidewalk behind him. I followed him to the minute market. Once again, I said, that is mine. I did call the police and took my bike home.
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star Give Me A Ticket For An Airplane We’ve Got To Get Out Of This Place Homeward Bound
Fish Eye Farm 