When I was thirteen or fourteen my mom told me she would kill herself on my eighteenth birthday.
Which she did. More or less. Except the matter is a mess more complicated than that. So much so that I’ve spent a lifetime cracking and shying away from it’s telling.
And so today I’m sad. Today is a lovely California morning. The one we all were born to live for.
Snowflakes Edge 
Mr. Lewis,
If you’re every down SD way let me know. I’d love to get together, or get our families together.
I enjoy reading you’re eloquent blogs – sounds like you have a wonderful mix of experiences so far in your 47-odd years of life!
Likewise, Mr. Arden. It’s been a long time. Too long. But it’s been nice circling on facebook, etc. It would be really fun to catch up on ground covered. We may be coming down south and by all means let us know fi you’re coming up Sonoma way. And thank you for reading. 🙂
The Sausage King? (I’m here because I was moved. Sorry about your mom, Andrew.)
Thanks for the word. I need to get posting again. 🙂