For its own sake...

I've been kicking myself for a week or so, knowing that I've not written ANYTHING for what I thought was about a month, but turns out to be a full six weeks. I thought and thought, trying to figure out why it was that I'd not come back here, what the precipitating event could have been. I did NOT realize, until I finally logged in a few minutes ago that the last entry I made was on the day I received the chromosome results. So, I guess I know why now. It's pretty obvious why my head imposed a gag-order on itself, eh? Duh.

Anyway, so I've amassed tons of moments, good, bad, and other, in that six weeks. I have a new niece, prettier than any daydream ever dreamt, and I'm dying to hold her tiny body in my arms and hug my little sister so tight she has to struggle for a little bit just to breathe. I suppose that will wait until MLK day, or whenever I can get the time and funds and arrangements together for a plane ticket.

I've also done something I swore I wouldn't, or at least I fear I have: grown rusty, out of practice, worse off in the fashioning of my "craft," than I was even under the stress of an undue miscarriage-- all for simple lack of practice. Duh again.

So, here I am, officially making an entry, no matter how pointless and devoid of substance. Exercising the non-muscle that resides inside my skull. Because that's the only way to keep the creative blood pumping, with the action of writing. Even if the only reason for doing it is so I can do it more.

Good night.