I have made a momentous decision. I have stood at the cliff-face, in the teeth of a gale, and experienced the liberating terror of vertigo. I have faced into the abyss. Voices come at me roaring. You are no writer! Fraud Dissembler. Hypocrite! And they are right. I have not written what I could write. I have not achieved what I committed my life to achieving. When do you give up? It takes courage to die. Now I am in process .

Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,. Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,. Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death. But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadow. Thrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that lift. Bud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow,. How shall I name it aright? March 1, 2015.

Letters to Lydia, Things Unsaid. Tuesday, July 13, 2010. Tuesday evening, July 13th. So he returned today from his first trip away with out mommy and daddy. He had a great time, I know and as the pics can attest. But when he came home he wanted jammies- after a cancelled flight and a noon arrival time turned into a getting home at 730pm arrival time, who can blame him? He went into his room and I saw him with a pic of you. Is as much due to you as to us! Watermar.

Friday, January 25, 2013. A small fraction of the average human life span. The blink of an eye in the history of time. About a year ago I decided to try to write you a letter each week for a year. And now fifty-two weeks and letters later, I am done. So these letters are about you and the world as I experienced you both in 2012. No more and no less. 52 weeks of my thoughts about life, love, courage, faith, family, and how to negotiate a bigger allowance. May they bring abundant jo.