Sigh of Relief.

Words are hard for me to find sometimes. If you could hear the dialogue in my head, it wouldn't make any sense to you.

In the summer, time is not kind. Time is sticky and heavy, hangs around in the corners and lunges at you when you walk by.

But in the fall, time falls lazily to the ground and mounds up in heaps. And scatters.

Skidaddle, Time! Don't bother me.

It's been a very tough twenty 'leven. But I have much to thankful for and much to look forward to.