Brenda Lou Morgan Andrews

Holding Brand New Me

I don't think there are words capable of accurately expressing the grief of losing a loved one.

Every man realizes he was a Momma's Boy when he loses his mother.

She was beautiful, kind and thoughtful. I will miss her more than I can conceive.

One of My Favorite Pictures of Her

My Parents and Sisters Before I Came Alone

Traction Control

Summer thunderstorms try to keep you from getting home. They throw water at you and make noise. They darken the sky and try to mesmerize you with their fireworks.

The hydroplanes never take off, though. The ditches remain to the left and right. The siren song goes unheard, and safe passage is achieved.

Kerblah Vol. Kabillion

Sorry to those who accidentally find themselves here, and, for some unknown reason, choose to read this mess. I can't even read a post or two without wanting to delete it all. Pretty much just a vent for randomness, this thing.

I should probably spend the time I'm sitting here tapping and clicking on other things. I could be doing yard work. I could be completing projects. Instead, I'm jabbering away to you.

You should definitely be doing other things. Something else. Anything else.

Ticking

If the world comes and goes, there's nothing to worry about. Time moves in all directions. Linear means nothing.

If not, time can run out. The end will always be near. No amount of planning will compensate for time that simply doesn't exist.

Back Again

Dread. Reset the alarm. Second-guess how you spent that precious time.

Get up. Do the routine. Dread some more.

Try to get back into the swing. Achieve a goal or two quickly. Suddenly, you're kind of glad you're back.

Next Step

I used to be able to push myself. When I thought I'd reached the end, I'd take another step. And then another. Before long, I'd gone far beyond what I thought was my limit.

Now, when I try that, I hit a wall. It doesn't take many walls to make you a little apprehensive of taking that extra step. Sore, tired and depressed, you just want to take a nap.

What Was That?

Boom, like a psychic hydrogen bomb, wiping out any thoughts that may have been in my mind at the time, my brain is taken over. My imagination feels like it becomes someone else's.

Details are left out. Those details are assumed to be known, anyway, by my imagination. Where I want it to go fills in any blanks.

The timbre and tone are wrong. I'll work out the details later. For now, I'll just enjoy the memory.