(Our Christmas tree)
So…here I am again apologizing for being such a slackard with my blogging. Truth is, I haven’t felt much like writing lately. An old injury came back to haunt me again (this happened last Christmas too), and I’ve been in a fair amount of pain for the last month. Plus, for some reason, I’ve been a bit more melancholy than usual this holiday season—and felt more keenly the pain of my estrangement from some of my extended family. Lord knows, I have good reason to be estranged, but still…I feel sad about it.
Nevertheless, as always, I’ve enjoyed having my children home from college. It’s a wonderful thing to witness their growth—both intellectual and spiritual—and the emergence of their fine adult selves. And they make me laugh—a lot. And laughter really is such good medicine.
And like my children, I love to make people laugh. So I thought I’d share a story with you that I wrote eight years ago—one of my stories that was published. I’m pretty sure that I retained the rights on it, but I may end up taking it off the blog pretty quickly if I find out otherwise, so you might want to read it soon if you’re interested.
It’s not high-brow literature, but then, you wouldn’t expect that from me anyway, would you? I take the advice to “write what you know” very seriously, and the people in my story are the people I grew up with down east, in the country churches my Daddy pastored. I loved those people and still miss them, so they show up in my writing a lot. It’s my way of keeping them around.
Anyway, you can find the story on my sidebar under Pages. Just click on A Fish Story. It’s not long. Dostoyevsky it’s not…but, at least maybe it will make you laugh. And, in my opinion, making people laugh is one of the higher forms of art. Especially these days.
Oh…and Happy New Year. May yours be filled with plentiful blessings and wonders. And lots and lots of laughter.