Beginning
I've been toying with this blog off and on for the past decade. And still I'm having a hard time finding the tone for it. I wrote for years about my son's food allergies and eosinophilia, not terribly easy, or light material. But for the most part I found I could strike just the right amount of light in with the heavy. I can't find it here though. It feels forced. Like slogging through thigh-high mud that's so cold the pain is sharp. You're moving forward but every step requires focus and determination. My stories don't usually feel this way. I love telling stories, there is little more fun that a charming tale that brings forth a good ol belly laugh. Or maybe helps someone else feel not quite so alone. But this story makes my stomach hurt. I've come at it in a variety of ways. Places to start. And finally, finally, one settled into my heart, like a flower fluttering to the ground and settled. Landed and felt ...