I have this deep rooted fear, much like a oak tree's roots, thick and heavy and just searching for water; that it will not be until after I'm dead that my collection of stories will be seen by anyone other then myself. Do not ask why, but I keep seeing my sister ripping through the many boxes of binders, notepads, loose leaf pages, computer files of my writings and drawings trying to create a best of to be published years after I'm cold in the grave.
It's a sad thought.
This fear is also why I blog. Why I try to type something every single day. Spuddy, I envy you and the rest of the locker room, you're creations are out there right now for everyone to witness. NO fear.
Now, back to the marriage issue....
