Time is fleeting. Once again, I find myself realising it is May, 2018 when just the other day I swear it was January. A lot has happened. I have frail and ill parents who require a lot of attention, though I am not close enough to provide that. I made a journey to see them and was jolted into reality by how frail and elderly they looked since the last time I had seen them (3 years ago). Time is not only fleeting, but a disease of bone and flesh. Difficult decisions were made about care and the old house—met with resistance, of course—and it left me realising that these long, dark days and nights are waiting for all of us. I have been back two weeks, and I am not sure I have fully recovered.
On a lighter note, I have submitted a novella to a publisher, submitted two short stories to magazines; I am also working on a short story for an anthology editor, and a new short novel. (5000 words in so far…).