I’m at that age when the past, the present and the future almost merge.  

When yesterday was last year. And a month of tomorrows is suddenly now.

The last couple of years have not been easy. I’ve stumbled and I’ve fallen. When you get into a pattern of the worst things happening to you, you start to expect it.

A couple of days ago, I was sitting on a boat in a creek in Tennessee with one of the people I love most in the world.  I started flipping through the photos on my phone and noticing how many I have from this year.

2021 and 2022 were low points for me.  And all this time I just kept touching the wounds, figuring they would never heal. 

But 2023 has been pretty good to me.

I met with my biggest hero and I got to work with another one on a big project.

I’ve been to the Caribbean, Chicago, Arizona and Nashville.  And I still have some other plans in the works.

I’m writing more than I ever have before. And not just fiction. I sealed up some personal demons in chapters of a book. 

And I faced the loss of someone I will always miss.  But I’m ready to move on.

Truth and reality aren’t always the same.  You can live an endlessly bleak reality if you choose to.  But sometimes the truth is that life is what you make of it.

So stop. Look around. Smell the roses.  Light some fires.  

You might just like what you see.