sorted

for the most part

It’s Friday night, St. Patrick’s Day, and I haven’t even had a beer.

*rectifying that now*

(insert sound of footfalls to the fridge)

—

It’s been a week.

I’m just looking photos and entries to see where I left off and what was left out. I have these grand ideas about how to somehow contain it all. And it’s simply not possible.

I’m still trying to remember the good news from the doctor. That responsible feeling of depositing a check. The thrill of seeing great live theater. Checking out my mom’s new kitchen. Spending time with folks I love.

There was even a blast from hometown past, lunching with an old friend. The kind of encounter that reminds you, even if you go in different directions in life, you hung out for a reason all those years ago.

It was all there this week—and some of it, caught through a lens.

This is the good stuff.

But two folks passed away this week. One, a friend of a friend, unexpected. And another a gentle, kind, beautiful person I met online, and years later in the flesh.

And now I sit here in the quiet, and think of all the people I wish I could spend time with, and all the people I can’t.