Well, it’s 2017 and I’ve been gone awhile.  Not writing, that is.  Writing used to be a part of me that wouldn’t stop itself.  It poured out of me in my grief, anger and hopelessness.  It was the one thing I could count on to move myself along.

Then, selling our house, moving to Sacramento from Georgia, finding the right place we’d want to call home for the rest of our lives. took a lot of energy and spirit.  I found that writing about it only made events hang around longer, working on my mind.  So many hopes, dreams to look forward to and then having reality smashing a lot of those dreams.  When you move out of California, it’s harder to move back – but I had to – there was no negotiation.

I let go of a lot of “stuff” to get back here.  Stuff that meant something to me, but for travel and the unknown – I had to make a choice.  Sometimes I still look for things and then remember, I gave it away (which is a good thing).

And it all took its toll.  So frustrating looking for a house armed with a budget.  Considering the hidden fees that we could afford was a factor that soon became important.  Great house, good neighborhood – taxes that would bankrupt us with several years.  All bad trials ended when we found the place we are in now.

It’s a wonderful house in a retirement community.  The fees are low (no paying for golf or road work).  It had a great clubhouse with activities, a gym, pools and classes on every subject.  But one casualty, my writing stopped being effortless.  With all the work in moving and setting up, I was eager to get back to writing.  Then Trump happened – the whole election process made me sick of the world.  I was angry, hopeless and grieving, but writing didn’t come easily.  I start and I stutter and get hopeless and no words on the screen.

Maybe I’ll be back soon.  Getting there is the hard part.