It’s Good Friday.  I’m feeling a tad sad.  Not trying to sound poetic or anything. It’s just the way the words tumble out.  I’m sitting here, sipping my infamous cup of tea.  I’m tapping on the keyboard to soothe my soul.  I know. I sound like a broken keyboard.  But this is my space so I shan’t apologize for my repetitiveness.  I’m doing what makes me feel good.

Ah, the sun is showing itself. Just in time, too.  The tears were almost washing down my face.  I see that some of my tomatoes and onions are poking their heads through the soil.  They’re enough to bring a smile and stem the anxiety fluttering in my heart. How can one help it?  The world has gone to hell in a handbasket – Paris, Belgium, my street.  No place is safe. Was there ever?

Let me move on, away from the anxieties of the world.  Let me hold on to what is near and dear. Better to count the eggs in the Easter basket than dwell on the world’s handbasket. Be here now.  Everything is as it should be.  There is nothing to fix.