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Mature Immaturity

Once upon another time, before I knew which life was mine, before I left the child behind me; I saw myself in summer nights and stars lit up like candlelight, I ‘d make my wish, but mostly I… believed. – Sara Bareilles

Take me back to the time when I was maybe eight or nine, and I believed… When wonders and when mysteries were far less often silly dreams and childhood fantasies…. before rational analysis and systematic thinking robbed me of a sweet simplicity. – Nichole Nordeman

Two of my dearest friends asked me last night why I’ve not blogged in the last few weeks.

What happened? Did we miss something? Did you stop writing?

The short answer: no.

The long answer: I had nothing to say.

Correction: I had nothing very pleasant to say.

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