Home Away From Home

Yesterday morning I saw Laura. As I approached her to hug her for the events of Friday night, I realized she was in pain. As I remembered her FB post on Sunday about the loss of one of her school friends, I hugged her for her pain and said I was sorry. What else could I say.  Friday night had already been frightenly close but seeing Laura made it all too real.  I was impressed about the post I read from one of the survivors. As she lied down on the floor between the other corpses, her last thoughts as she waited to be next to have her 22 year old life ended were of love, rather than anger or rage of what was happenig to her. She focused on sending warm thoughts to those she loved in the hope they knew how much she cared for them. She went further to re-assure the families of those dying next to her that their last whispers were of love and not anger. It gave me hope in the future,  I was moved by this, though at the same time I wonder if this lack of reciprocity would just make us alik

I have not written in a while. As I hit the bottom I was afraid of what might come out and what might be registered in the web for eternity. But it does not matter. As I go through this stage I know that writing is probably one of the best things I can do, and keeping things inside one of the worst. And short of re-starting my book (or books) any time soon, as they feature about 27 in my list of things I wish I could do, this is just as good.  People used to write diaries, now they blog. I reas on facebook that people used to be upset if someone read their diary, now they get angry if no one reads their blog. It is a funny phenomena. I must say that most of times I think no-one is reading, so why bother, and even those reading won't miss it amongst all other things they surely read. But then a comment comes through, an email reminds me of something I wrote and I know that someone out there comes and visits my home away from home. For good or bad :)