So I survived another year.
What an odd number.
That's seven numbers higher than I can safely count on my digits.
What am I supposed to use?
That's a lot of days.
A huge number of hours.
A stupid amount of minutes.
I'm not even sure if the number of seconds can actually be that long but geez.
I'm still here.
Struggles with physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health...and I am still here.
Battered, graying hair, confused about where the bruise on my shin came from and wondering how life came to be so beautiful while I was busy being so worried, so lost in deep thought.
If you would have asked me ten years ago where I would be now it would have not have involved the word "Saraland" or the fact this place has become an unexpected second home involving a host of strange characters of whom I am not entirely sure of which are real and which are merely figments of my far too over active imagination.
Of course I tease.
I am fully aware of who is and who is not a highly interactive hallucination; it's just infinitely more fun to put on a show for the crowd.
And so time passes on just as it has for as long as it has and will continue to do so until matter itself finds a good stopping point.
Beauty, horror, love, hate, rain, sunshine, perfection, sin, creativity, dullness and the record player will keep playing music for as long as God finds a need to keep this utterly bizarre human condition going.
All I can do is observe from my front row seats as time flows by second by second and I wonder at what will happen next.
Life is a bit like the weather in Alabama; if you don't like it wait about five minutes and it will change. Conversely, you can always cross the road to get out of the rain; unless of course you are like me and feel alive when the rain is falling from the heavens, droplets pressing against your skin and setting your soul on fire with the whispers of God's promises of Love and Grace.