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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1042799-The-7th-of-the-Year-2023
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Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #2118335
My blog of half-important thoughts and consistent communication practice.
#1042799 added January 7, 2023 at 10:34pm
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The 7th of the Year 2023
And So It Begins


         Today is the first of what I envision as a weekly blog going forward until December, when I will switch it again into a daily blog. There's a little less pressure this way, yet I almost forgot it this Saturday. Off to a great start already.


         I have been sick for a bunch of this week, and at the same time, my phone won't connect to the charging cable. So I have unintentionally been living as good as on the moon for everyone who has wanted to reach me this week. I like that feeling when camping in the woods, but not so much when I am alone in my house, craving human contact. This whole thing has left me more exhausted than I have been in a while, and it doesn't help that my mind still wants to stick to an early-morning-and-late-night schedule. And to top it all off, I have no real plan coming into the new year for the rest of the year. Yes, I have some broad strokes that I am working from, but I haven't a clue how to make a painting out of them.


I Miss My Shadow


         Long ago, when I was a punk teen starting to write on this website, my family had a pet rabbit. His fur was silky black with a white nose, so naturally, the only name seven kids could find agreement on was Shadow. He was a big, fat rabbit who didn't mind if you held him and was fond of having his cheeks stroked. He loved a good back scratch where it was hard for himself to reach when he was grooming, but if you held him good and stroked the fur on his cheeks with one finger, that would nearly settle him in for a nap. I remember plenty of nights where it was just me and my Shadow wrapped in a blanket, reading The Lord of the Rings. With him in my lap, we were truly guardians of a sleeping house. After my family moved to the city, Shadow was a good friend: the big ears made him a natural listener, and I was always safe knowing he wouldn't tell anyone. He knew how much I liked my private talks...


         I walked out of the vet that day alone. A decade and a half later, I am still missing my Shadow. And there is no Wendy to give my Shadow back to me. I ain't no Peter Pan.



Memento Mori,


*Shield4* KS *Quill*          


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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1042799-The-7th-of-the-Year-2023