I don't recall how she and I hit upon it. Substituting the phrase "apple sauce" for the word "whatever". It somehow became an inside joke. And I am not sure why that was the phrase that hit me when I began to type tonight. Maybe because I have too much to do before this month fades away, maybe because while I was waiting for my ancient computer to allow me into blog I glanced at the bulletin board in my office/spare room and saw the Christmas pictures I had made of my sisters nearly 25 years ago. P at 18 and R 14. Healthy with a whole life ahead of them. Saw them both over the weekend at the folks. P is confined to her wheelchair now. ALS, there with S and their two kids. R & D with the youngest three of their four. The fourth somehow already having completed his second (and probably last) year of college. I never understood my father's strong desire to turn the clock back, but then again I was young(er) then and he was about the age I am now.
There is no joy in my writings any more. No wit, no flow. L stole part of that, or mortally wounded it and I let it die by neglect. I feel there is nothing to share, and with whom and why? To much to do and what does any of it matter? My sister, dieing, and me with no real responsibilities beyond feeding two stray pets.