Coming home

Had some nastiness at work this week and didn’t feel up to blogging. Plus I’m in a killer travel cycle just now, but I’ll try to do better.

I looked at The Letters the other day and was taken aback by how many there are. By The Letters, I mean the missives I’ve written to my daughters (and occasionally to Mary, as well) over the years. I wrote them mostly on airplanes when I’d be on my way somewhere and get to thinking about some event in our lives or their progress in this or that or…whatever.  It was an idea I stole from some other dad in one of the Chicken Soup series.

These letters will serve to leave them something of me when I’m no longer able to communicate directly. I hope they enrich my daughters’ future lives. I know that writing them has enriched mine.

It had been several years since I’d written a regular column and many years since I’d written fiction. Other than occasional client writing, I hadn’t put pen to paper in forever. Writing those letters helped me get back in the communicating habit.

Those letters were the bridge that brought me back to myself in a very personal way.  Eventually, I was comfortable enough – and of course, the programmers of this web site put technology within my grasp – to try this blogging thing and I found I really liked it.

More than liked it, actually. This venue has given me such a lovely way to be in touch with a small group of good friends.

And now, I’m back to writing a book. I’m home and I have my daughters and Mary and each and all of you to thank for it.