“What’s the story?”
I hate those words.
As a kid it usually meant I was about to be busted for my latest misdemeanor and had to think real fast to generate an explanation both plausible and least incriminating.
Even as an adult the phrase causes anxiety like seeing a police car in the rear view mirror. It causes my failings to surge into my consciousness — can I blame not meeting a deadline on something other than my own incompetence?
Years pass, my story gets longer, murkier, messier. The stuff I’d like to have left behind twenty years ago surfaces at inopportune times and mistakes I should have learned from end up repeated. New chapters are written containing a distressing mix of beauty and weakness, love and lunacy.
It would be nice to live even a short chapter in this life without failing, stumbling or stuffing up. Fortunately the Author and Editor has chosen to expunge the bad bits from the new me He is creating.
Sorry for having been erratic in writing lately, a good thing about 5 minute Friday is I feel less internal pressure to write well — the point is to just write! Have a good weekend those to get to have one (I have to work :-( ).