I used to write in a notebook with a pen.
I read something somewhere that said that doing that was better for my brain.

Now I find myself thumbing words into Google Keep.
Quicker.
Closer.
Ready whenever I am.
Sorry brain.

Days when I write are better.
I can’t explain it.

Maybe I can.

Getting words out, whichever ones are at the surface…
…provides more space for others to bounce around.

An overflow valve of sorts.
Often needed when I’m stuck in a loop…
…thinking about one thing or another.

Reading them back to myself.
Therapeutic.

Resonating with others.
Comforting.

Yesterday I finished reading A Heart that Works by Rob Delaney.

…and damn it, the tears flowed.

After, all of my worries seemed trivial.

A parent’s worst nightmare — losing a child.

I’m gut punched and eviscerated.
Grateful to have read Henry’s story.
Changed somehow…again.

Feeling the palpable pain and love of his
Dad thru words I may have never known…

…if he chose not to share them.

Finding myself echoing familiar things…
…like a skipping record

Family is everything.
The everyday is everything.