I’m preparing to focus my attention on The Kids.  They’ve been far too neglected this week.  It rends me asunder to think I’ve not spent the time with them they so deserve.

They’re not here to satisfy my needs.  They’re not here to fill some void in my life.

They’re here because I love them, because I care for them, because I’ve committed to provide for their welfare, whether it be emotional or physical or material or otherwise.  They’re here because they are my children, and we humans don’t neglect our children.  Right?

In lieu of images and words meant to satiate desires both gross and subtle, I offer these words.

I discovered them in the margin of my journal from 1987.

Yes, I still have my penned thoughts from twenty years ago.  In fact, I still have them from as far back as I began keeping a journal.  That would be about thirty years ago for anyone keeping track.

It’s doubtful most will ever see the full extent of what I’ve written over these many years.  Most of them are my thoughts, not yours, and they shall remain with me until my end, at which time they too will end.  Such is the way of things.

I don’t know who wrote these words.  They’re not mine, but they matched my thoughts at the time.

Why are they important now?

Because I was just thinking about Henry.

Jenny knew Henry.  Rick knew Henry.  Derek knew Henry.  Mom definitely knew Henry.  So did a great many others.

I won’t blather on ad nauseam about him—again.  Instead, I’ll share this thought, a concept I find disheartening yet excruciatingly true.  Possibly, some time in the future, I’ll put forth the effort to discover whose words these are.

so many are afraid
of the word “hello”
because it so often leads
to the word “goodbye”