"Will they forget about me?"
That's my thought as I make the rounds and try to read a little of all your news.
I can tell you the exact moment that kind of thinking sunk into my psyche.
I was probably about 3 years old.
It was Christmastime.
My older siblings and cousins were dancing around my grandparents' house with their Christmas presents - my brother complete with cowboy hat,holster and toy gun - when I pulled on his pant leg and asked him where my present was.
He hardly missed a beat, telling me, "You're too little," and went back to having a shoot out with his cousin.
I've worked really hard the last few years when I feel that all too familiar panic that I have become invisible or will be forgotten or any other kind of thought pattern that mimics that time so long ago.
I drove hundreds of miles today and made it to a long time friend's house.
Freeways and rain coming down so hard the wipers couldn't keep up, didn't deter me.
I did it anyway, even though I was afraid.
There aren't any freeways where I live and trying to figure out which lane is the one I want is not my idea of a fun pastime. Drivers in this city are very kind though and let me in even after they watched me change from this lane to that within a few car lengths.
Tomorrow is my cardiac MRI among lots of catch up visiting with my friend.
Friday, I get to meet this longtime blogging friend. Cool.
I'm too tired to try and make this post make sense by wrapping it up by tying something in from the beginning of the post.