Sometimes I think that I just need to write. I don't know if there is any purpose served by my writing, or if it's just something that I do automatically, like buying the candy-bar from the vending machine. (I don't even think about it any more. That Twix bar just winds up in my hand. And then I can't waste it for pity's sake...ugh.
Looking back over my blog entries I realize that all of these stories are things that I would have told Mom if she were still here. These are the things I would have called her to share. These are the things that we would have laughed about together, or she would have been present to witness, or that she would have yelled at me about (sorry for the 'Loads' entry...although it is kind of funny in a gross way.)
Ultimately, I guess I'm writing for myself...but I'm writing for her too. I'm writing all of the things that I can't tell her any more. You guys are the surrogate audience for my stories, and I really want to say thanks. Maybe through your eyes, through your reading it she can know that I'm thinking of her.
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