A 200-Word Challenge, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:09am

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Here’s something new. Through the end of March, I’m writing 200-word blog posts. No more; less if needs be. I’m not usually one for challenges (excepting Dry January, which matters). For example, I’ve never poured a tub of ice water over my head. But:

  1. I have persistent and unruly tendonitis of the elbow. “Tennis elbow,” as they call it, although I haven’t picked up a tennis racket since I was 11. It’s hard to type at length.
  2. My father died not quite a month ago. I write these Saturday posts on the day they are published, about whatever crosses my mind or has bubbled up in the past week. At this moment, in this experience, every time I sit down and ask my fingers what they think, they think they miss my father. And while I want us all as a society to talk more about death, I don’t want 80% of that talking to happen on the blog. Doesn’t feel right. Wasn’t my intent.

So there, above, is a picture of the harbor at Princeton-by-the-Sea, where my daughter and I took a little vacation last month. Here, in my heart, is rueful understanding, gratitude, sorrow, love, fear, and cheer.

Have a wonderful weekend. This closing line is not part of my word count. It belongs to you.

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