I swore to myself I would be honest with myself and with you when I founded this forum nearly a year ago. I also promised myself I wouldn't hold back here--I would make my life an open book as I recorded the events surrounding this odd year-long experiment. We're about 90 percent of the way through the BYE, and I have been able to keep my promises for the most part.
Today will be the exception.
I've struggled since Saturday with what I was going to tell you today. Saturday was a big day for me--a day that had been marked in my calendar for many months. I knew all along it was going to be a difficult day, and it was--even more difficult than I imagined.
On our way there, Teri asked me if I had a plan. I didn't. Not a clue.
Driving home in silence on Saturday night after I failed to execute my non-plan, Teri asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I didn't and I said so. But, being a girl, Teri tried to get me to open up anyway and share my innermost feelings for my own good.
She soon saw I really wasn't up to the conversation, and she sat quietly in the passenger seat as we headed in the direction of our Suburbingham home.
Sunday was a good day since I was occupied and distracted from the moment I woke at 5:30 a.m. until the time I collapsed in bed on Sunday night. I didn't have any time at all to think or reflect or otherwise get in touch with my inner feelings about the day before. I didn't want to anyway.
I was busy because Sunday was one of my assigned days to be "on duty" as a deacon at our church. This kept me running (sometimes literally running) non-stop from early in the morning until early afternoon. After locking up the church after the second service, I had just enough time to run home, change and grab a quick bite before going to a two and a half hour meeting that adjourned just in time for me to rush to another, even longer meeting.
My crazy Sunday schedule left me no time to think, and not having to think about the important things is sometimes good.
Today, I knocked out a couple of thousand words in my latest tome, mowed the lawn, and generally put off talking to you as long as I could.
I'm still not ready to talk about it, and there's really nothing else I could talk about today. I'm sorry since this puts you in the unenviable position of reading about what I'm not writing.
It's a shame, really. It's a great story and one years in the making. I could tell it in a way you would find fascinating. You'd laugh, you might cry and you'd almost certainly be angry at points along the way. It's the kind of story that makes you think, Discerning Reader. It's also a story I'm not ready to tell. Yet.