Friend of a friend, you used to call...

I have lived in this house for all of my thirties.
And I have been left twice.
Left to find my way; to pick up the pieces and move on.
Inspite of that I grasp unto it like a drowning man.
I want it to mean something.
But right now it feels so empty.
I am fully aware that I am the Peter Pan of my peer group.
Floating high, untouched by responsibility.
But I am done.
I want to help people.
To have a family.
To be more then a uncle.

Never forget...

My uncle Gordon was on the ground in Korea. I have two great uncles/cousins who served in the Mediterranean during the First World War. I never got a chance to meet any of them.

How does one convince oneself that something one believes isn't something to believe?

This thing hurts like hell, but what did you expect?

Early days...

That quiet, exciting time learning who she was, by keyboard, distance and time. (Surfing in a Warm Industry - Kashmir)

Excitement, yes excitement, from a quiet soul. Love mixed with dance, mostly on the inside, that bred life into a tired soul. (No Cars Go - Arcade Fire)

A fall down the stairs, and a coupled need to care for the wounded one. Rapidly growing old together. (Such Great Heights - The Postal Service)

It's strange how, after such a long time, the habit to comfort, to take care is still there.

"A ship in harbour is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

- John Augustus Shedd