The Bloody Doors Off

Never thought I’d be writing an afterward to any of my posts, let alone this one.

But if anything, it lends credence to the thought that life isn’t a true straight line, from beginning to end. It loops, and curves, and backtracks.

Thirty-five years. And almost a year since I revisited that part of my past, and knew I’d made peace with it.

Thirty-five fucking years.

And this morning, she sent me a Facebook message.

It took me fifteen minutes to respond.

But I’m glad I did. It was good to catch up.

To learn she’d had a good life so far, even with recent heartbreak.

It provided some shelter from the storm raging in my brain.

Which I’ll talk about later.