Sometimes...

Sometimes we're just way too close to the problem.

A slight change in perspective may be all that we need.

Like a skipping record...

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.

My crutch...

As I got ready to walk Ollie to school this morning, I strapped my camera around my neck as I often do.

Then, on second thought, decided to leave it behind.

I should be more present.
Camera’s always alongside.
My crutch.

We walked and talked and laughed.
Engaged the entire walk to school.

On the route home, I bumped into two other dads and chatted the whole way home.
New Year’s resolutions.
Sobriety.
Our kids growing up.
Concerns.
Frustrations.
Fears.
Joys.

They walked me home and continued the conversation for another 15 min at the end of the driveway.

It felt great to connect.
No airs.
Real.
Life.

All because I left my crutch at home.