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.