I post the easy

It’s Thursday night. The house is silent. I am alone with five others. They are sleeping. I am glad.

What did one introvert say to the other? Nothing.


I am a jobless writer. That which I want to say I can’t. Or I don’t. Or I won’t.

So I post thoughts about a plethora of things that don’t matter.

Because I like to write. Except when I have to think about really hard stuff. And then I don’t like to write.

Katie drew the dancer on the driveway. I didn’t even see her do it.

And now it’s raining and she will disappear.

The dancer, not Katie.

And the rain, we’ve needed it for so long. So long.

But the disappearing dancer makes me sad.

And I can’t really say exactly why. Or I don’t. Or I won’t.

Instead I post the easy.

It seemed easier to write about stuff with the kids were younger.

Anecdotal stuff. The stuff of life.

They are growing up. We hurt each other with our words, with our actions.

And the stuff of life now is that we sin. We forgive and we love. We cry.

It’s not so easy writing about that.

I respect my kids’ privacy.

And so the things I used to say I really can’t anymore. Or I don’t. Or I won’t.

Instead I post the easy.

And my mom, with her ALS.

I don’t like to think about it. It hurts too. stinking. much.

So I run. I really, literally run. I run so I don’t have to feel pain or endure the chaos for 45 minutes because all I can think about for those 45 minutes is how much I hate running.

And yet I love running because it makes me forget everything else.

And I can’t really talk about that here. Or I don’t. Or I won’t.

Instead…I post the easy.