When writing comes

My father used to wonder how I could write a blog regularly.  There were days where I just had a word, or a phrase or a visual. 

When I would sit down the words would start to come.  Some call it free association.  I guess I just think of it as following my thoughts.

My father loved to find the bookmark to my blog.  Not for some kind of brilliance, I think, but perhaps for his son’s thoughts.

Now that he has died, I cherish that thought.  And perhaps I write as though he were still listening.  About nothing and everything.  For the enjoyment of it.

One thought on “When writing comes

  1. iN THE LATER DAYS YOUR FATHER WOLUD TALK AT LENGTH OF HIS FAMILY THAT HE LOVED DEARLY ON THE THE PHONE .WHILE AT lA fLIECH. hE ALSO WAS VERY CONNECTED TO kINDERSLY; i FIND BEING 80 YEARS AND EYESIGHT AND MANY ITEMS NOT AS GOOD AS THEY COULD BE , oNE CHERISHES FAMILY AND YOUR OLD HOME hE ALSO ENJOYED PLAYING A GAME WITH mURRY . NOW IT SLIPS MY MIND WHAT IT WAS. hE WOULD LAUGH AND SAY THEY WOULD LEAVE IT AND THEN CONTINUE ON. oUR cHILDRN ARE SO PRESIOUS. gOD bLESS mARSHALL bAKERS PHONED US TO SAY HALLO AT cHRISTMAS.LoVINGLY aUNT Lorena

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