I reflect on my life sometimes, and I like most of it. I live alone and I'm not lonely. I like doing what I want to. I like to write and read and study. I wonder if anyone even understands that. It would be nice to discuss things I wrtie and study with my kids, but I can't make them like my stuff anymore than they can convince me not to.
Last week when I went to Temple with Nicki, I was telling her about one of the articles I wrote after we lay down to watch TV. I rattled on for a while, and finally, I looked over and noticed she was asleep. I tell Carol sometimes when I have some wonderful idea, and she nods and says, "Uh huh." Becky didn't care about what I wrote when she was in this part of the state. Now she is still an acquaintance. I whine a lot, but I really want someone to talk to about ideas and writing and God. That's why I write. I get to say the stuff. It is so great when somebody reads it.
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