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.