12,269 Days Alive
6,419 Books to Read
6 Drawers of Polish Put Away
1 Crying Jag
I was helping Tink and Stephanie unpack and put away some of the boxes from the Boxtopia that the living room currently is this evening. It didn’t go as well as I hope, but we got some things done.
We came across a clock I had made for Daddy a literal decade ago. I’ll post pictures later, but it was a blank cigar box I had wood burned, stained, and mounted a clock mechanism into back in 2009.
I wasn’t expecting it back.
It made me cry. Even now, I can’t fully express how I’m feeling because I don’t know. This month, this past year has been full of dramatic change and challenges. Most of the time, I think I’m doing okay. And then…
Then there are some days I sit down in the middle of the floor weeping over a damned cigar box.
I’m for bed. I was going to read but it is already ten pm and I am exhausted and in far too much pain to fight with fiction.
Take your meds, friends.
