90 Miles

Everything is telling me it’s time to start writing again. Another move completed. Another purging of my belongings. A new President (unrelated to the first two). My own guilt and shame (perhaps related to the presidential election but more likely due to not writing in several months).

Most of the above are my fault. I should have smelled the mold and mildew in the last place I moved into. Damn Parkinson’s and sense of smell! Because of it I was homeless for three weeks, and I had to rethink the importance of belongings since the moving truck and storage space were limited in size. Hence, I haven’t written in a while.

As for the new president, I accept no responsibility or who is or is not in office. Yes, I voted. No, I’m not going to tell you who I voted for. Right now, all I’m worried about are the people affected by the wildfires. Many of them lost homes, had to rethink their belongings and are homeless due to more tragic reasons. It is horrific and devastating. I live 90 miles away from the fires, so how would I know? Well, I know because I could smell the smoke 90 miles away.