Count von Count.

Oh, the games I play.

My new BART game involves trying to imagine what the other riders might look like when they start graying. Sadly, old age is easier to visualize in some people more than others. Particularly if they already have noticeable worry lines on their faces.

—–

The weekend is over. I’ve done absolutely no work, but I don’t feel guilty. Or regretful.

I worried about this weekend. It reared its repugnant head far sooner than I thought possible; the year passed relatively easily, I reluctantly admit.

This weekend was an anniversary, of sorts. Definitely not one that I would like to celebrate, but I can’t help thinking about it. It’s been a year since we laid Ma to rest. I’ve gone a full year without her, when before I could scarcely imagine it. It certainly hasn’t been easy, and I still miss her all the time. Time does heal most wounds though. That, and the advice of good friends.

“It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.”

– Joseph Campbell

Ma’s passing marks one of the darkest hours in my life so far. But I’ll be damned if someone claims that I didn’t handle it well. She was always proud of me, no matter what I did wrong, and I intend to keep that up.

Ma is the main reason I believe in the sanctity of love at all. I just always have to remember to follow her example and love people with all my heart. Without doubts or stipulations.

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