So it is almost 10:30 PM. I am tired. I feel as if I need to say something.
The hearing aids are easily becoming an unnoticeable, though necessary addition to my life.
There is drama around my son’s injury.He doesn’t believe he had a seizure, merely a fainting event due to exertion at the high altitude of Denver. His wife insists he did have a seizure and is adamant about him not driving for six months, as the law stipulates.
She has now moved out their home. It’s a mess.
I went swimming tonight. Thank Heaven.
I’m tired. I need to sleep,
That’s all.
Dispatches From Dystopia 
No matter their age, we never stop worrying about our children and wishing we could still fix everything for them.
Oh, for sure.
After my son had grown and gone, I realized I’d never stop worrying about him…felt sympathy for my parents who’d had to witness my own adult screw-ups and stay silent.
Yes. My parents went through a lot with me too. But I finally settled down .