This is the best part of the day. It is the time when everyone is still asleep, the sun is rising and the day is just beginning; it is the time when I can catch up on writing and reading. Being a blogger causes me guilt – the guilt of wanting to write more often than I am able and I taking time to enjoy reading what other bloggers are writing. However, for right now, this moment I can really only write weekly. There was a time when I wrote daily. It was that first summer when I wrote a daily post about what happened during the day and the ways the day counted. There was the trip to take my dad’s cremains to France and there were the three summer camps I wrote reporting the day’s events to anxious scout parents back home. I had time, I made time, but other things didn’t get done at my blogging’s expense.
Yesterday, I was a lazy day. I needed a lazy day or I thought I needed one. Continue reading Sunday morning, quiet time