Each time I’ve started to write this week’s blog I’ve floundered. My mind settles on the unimportance of it all, the “Why should I bother?”
A few days ago I got word that a woman I admire and cherish is in the hospital in critical condition. One day she was fine, the next in a hospital bed. We don’t know when she will rise again.
With that image pervading my thoughts my mind can’t get past, “Why should I bother?”
I start to write and the only phrase I can think of is “be thankful”.
I could expound about so many things we contemplate when tragedy strikes, but instead I’ll take action and write what I should have done days or weeks or months ago…
I have written 84 blogs. They appear each Wednesday and are predictable as hell. Before my musings get posted on this website they are read by two other people.
This blog continues because of their rallying, cajoling and sometimes soft-worded reality checks.
He is a voice-of-reason and is tough on me. His push for profundity has made me a better writer. His most used line is, “Don’t tell me what happened, write about it”.
She is a dear friend and my biggest fan. Her honest input is invaluable. She’s a master of crafty criticism and the best cheerleader you will ever meet. I write because she reads.
They are the reason I carry on even as I ask myself “Why should I bother?”
We never know what life has in store for us so my best advice is to say thank you while you can.