I know, I tend to brood over the rough things, the worrisome things. I don't mark and carry with me the good things, and I think I'm hardly alone in that. It seems that joy and vitality slip too quickly from memory, while sadness and doubt lumber heavily to the very edge of forgetting, where they linger for far too long.
But there are good things. Here's my doofus watching me, pining for me from the other side of the window yesterday. He gets to me, he just does.
And here's yesterday's stunning red sun falling off the horizon, through the fog and rain, sinking far too quickly for my camera to capture. I was captured by it, though.
I'm changing the name of this journal.