Sometimes I wish my 34-year-old self would go back and tell present-day me the same thing.
These days I have really been missing Pepper, our cat who passed away this past March. We have some pictures of her posted on the refrigerator, and every time I see them I kind of crumple up inside, remembering how precious she was. She doesn’t exist anymore, and that is something that I haven’t quite accepted yet. I really loved her. Grief is a slow walk.
The purpose of any of these changes is not to pose as an intellectual–that’s what my glasses are for–but to return to that neglected side of my brain which requires THOUGHT and not INSTINCT. I almost always favor instinct, and perhaps it is time for a change.
Sometimes I don’t remember what a brain is, anyway.
Today at lunch I had a hamburger and read two chapters from Ramona and her Mother. When I draw I will use my left hand.