I Have Been Told That I Must

write. By my 12 year old daughter.

"Mom, you need to write in your blog. It has been a while."

"But Darling, I have no words. They have gone to Gus."

"Then write about Gus, Mom."

Yeah, right. Easier said then done. Because she reads this blog. But if I make a lame attempt to use some analogies, some word illusion, maybe she won't catch on.

So, if I write for example, that what was previously seen in shades of grey is now, for me, viewed in full technicolor. Would you get that?

All of my life I have eaten bland, cultivated strawberries but that finally, at 46 years young, I have tasted tender, ripe wild strawberries. Would you get my drift?

That I ache, such a sweet ache. And that I trying like hell to learn to live with this new and powerful dimension of myself.

I am lost and yet I am found.

I am healed.

I am not hungry, can not read, sigh at inappropriate times and am not sleeping....at all.

I scrubbed and waxed my kitchen floor on my hands and knees for three hours today.