Six months.

In eight days, it will be that long since I’ve written anything substantial.

Six months.

That’s a long time to tread water without a shore in sight.

Heck, at this point, I’d cry over a leaky dinghy bobbing by.

The fact that I’m still relatively coherent after this amount of fruitless splashing about is a tiny miracle on its own.

So, today, let’s celebrate the wee-miracles of our crazy lives (and try not to imagine how scary we’d be without them.)

Until tomorrow…


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