The Time Chair

I have stories to tell you.  Hence why I started this bloggy blog.  But I am finding it hard to choose which ones to tell first.  I started with my tattoo story because it shows you what a Bad Ass wannabe I am...while at the same time, hopefully showing you that I WILL do stuff.  I WILL commit.

So where do I go now...hmmmm....

My other goal here is to sit and write EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. and then hit publish.  No scheduled posts.  Just write and run.

I have no idea what that is going to produce.  Could be a jumble of nonsensical words (um, this post?) or it could be gold, Jerry! (Seinfeld reference?  no? you're killing me).

Anyway, I was sitting outside yesterday.  We have a deck with a couple Adirondack chairs and a lounge chair. This is pretty much my favorite place in/around our whole house.  It's my spot.

So I was sitting in one of the chairs with my book.  It was warm, there was a breeze, and I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

Time is a weird thing.  When I am outside with my eyes closed, I could be 15 again.  I could be at my parents' house again.  I could be on the dock again.  The sun on my face and the breeze across my skin?  Is timeless.  It's felt the same to me my whole life.

But then I open my eyes and I am on a deck to a house that I own with a husband.  I have a kid inside that house who is napping in a nursery I helped prepare for him.

I have a career. I have debt.  I have responsibilities that I don't even really understand all the way.

I am an adult.

And yet...

I closed my eyes again because sometimes?  I don't feel like being in this time.  The adult that I am.