Each Day
Each day brings new challenges and items to pay attention to. This has been going on since . . . forever. I am not an advocate of burning time. Being thankful to have a day, I like to make tracks every day, even if the turtle could leave me in its dust. I sometimes don’t tell all.
I still do have physical tell tale signs of having a stroke three months ago. My left cheekbone is still black and blue and tender to the touch. My chin on the left side has remains for some of the bruising to be absorbed within my system. The healed, horseshoe shaped scar on my left butt cheek lets me know when I have sat too long on our hard plastic patio chairs. Some of what I experience in my day-to-day activities or lack thereof is mine to own and mine to work through. No need to articulate.
I am doing all that comes my way each and every day, in my own style and in my own time. Nothing is being left unattended. No welfare check is needed here on Stauffer Avenue. I remain a busy person and still can be a pain in the ass to my children and Dennis. Tough titty. The gratitude that I send in petitions to my Lord could fill a library. I get to take care of our home. I get to make decisions. I get to pay bills. I get to be a pain in the ass to anyone when they least expect it. I get to be me . . . it could have gone either way in February. Making plans for the day is a treat. I am not looking in the rear view mirror . . . my site is up there right around the next curve.
A sunny week ahead with no plans for it right off hand . . . subject to change. Grandma Laura, I do have something at the end of each day to be accountable for having been given the day. Catch ya tomorrow.