Again I begin. Like the greening of spring, I advance. First buddings have long since become the background for my tapestry. Threads weaving through and out and in and back build a life not always well lived but always survived.
I am not alone. I walk amid fellow travelers into the future whatever it holds for me. I do not walk unarmed. Too scared for that, I carry every tool acquired through many survivals since the bare bones of childhood where I sought reprieve from the mythical god of human creation.
I won’t pick on god, after all, he did not create himself whereas I have created me, at least the me I am today, a far cry from the teary-eyed little girl asking god why he didn’t love me. I rarely whine anymore about how unfair life is. Unfair or not it is what we have to work with.
The Road Forward 