There are things I want to tell you. Except for this dialogue in my head.
Part of me has thought, “It's different now, Tricia. The pond is bigger and the readers are louder and it's not always fun. Anyway, people don’t want to hear your wanderings and meanderings. You may become too loud, too much, a voice in their spam box. They might delete you, or they might just disagree with you.”
But the deeper part of me, the anchored part that knew you before the world knew me, says, “Yes, Trish, maybe they do. Don’t let the hecklers silence you. Remember how all of this started? Just your thoughts on paper. Just continue the conversation.”
See, there was a time when I wrote about a little something every day, big or small, profound or not, deep or shallow, lasting or fleeting. I don’t do that as much anymore, and I’d like to change that. There was a time when the blog was sweet and simple, and I want to keep that little smiling daisy in a glass.
And so, with that said, since there was a time when I would have signed on just to say this, I will now tell you: you guys, today was terrible. It was terrible.
We went back to the hospital to get Tucker’s pins and stitches out.
Actually, nix what I said above. I mean, not the part about wanting to tell you things, but the part about actually saying it. Because I was just going to write about it, but then I got nauseous from all that today has held for us.
Jana the therapist would probably say that’s an indication that my body, mind, and spirit have had enough for one day, and I’m not even the patient in today’s scenario.
Actually, I am Jana’s patient. And let’s thank the Lord for that.
Anyway, there are things I want to tell you. I shall start again soon.
Tomorrow, I will begin with the tale of how I was the fiercest Mama Bear today. Because in case there was any question, I sure as hell can be.
Sure as hell.