What if I can’t find the secret before it’s too late? I’ve looked for it, it seems, for decades. Maybe the secret is right in front of me and I can’t see it. Most likely, it is.
I could ask for help. It’s important that I do this on my own.
I’ve been working on my fire pit. I bought Adirondack chairs that I have to assemble. The first one took me an hour; the second one, half that time.
I made chicken parm tonight for my family. It was delicious. I boast. Don’t care. I thought it was perfect.
Speakers sound warm and sweet. Everyone is in bed. Too loud? Not for me.
The hot weather has made me stay inside, so I listen to old CDs. Songs that take me back. Jesus, that’s sappy. I’m fishing, just me, in the Spring River. Fly fishing. I have no idea what I’m doing. The fly line freezes on the rod. It’s winter, and I’m standing in the river. Sounds stupid. Not really.
It’s the end of summer. Doesn’t feel like it. There are cup holders on my new chairs. My obsession with weather may be an old man thing. Labor Day tomorrow.
Bourbon singing in my ears. I’ve got secrets.
Perpetual Break 
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