Dear readers, our country and our world are changing at a rapid pace, and I find that I'm afraid to write freely in public...and yet I will still write about my daily life, the challenges I face with my illness, and my writing. I am broken-hearted over the state of our world. I can't sleep at night for fear of what Thistle's world will be like as she grows up. Once, I dreamed that I was in the ocean with Thistle and she drifted out of my arms and drowned. I went mad in the dream, screaming by the shore, crying, and woke up shaking, asking God to never let me dream that dream again.
There is a lunatic in the White House, an increasingly unstable man who makes Richard Nixon look like a Boy Scout who never lied a day in his life. I sometimes long for the days without social media, when we had the newspaper and Walter Cronkite on nightly news to tell us about Watergate. It seems there was a breather in the unfolding scandal.
No breathers now, but here and there, glimpses of hope.
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