Freedom

Yesterday it was put to me this way: "I must admit I sometimes envy the level of exhaustion I read in your words."

I've always believed that you do what is right, the rest will work itself out. Maybe a better way to put it is that while justice doesn't always prevail, if you do the best you can it is easier to live with yourself.

I'd love to be more forthright here, to put everything to paper, but the new way is to live under a microscope.

Does freedom begin with remorse, or with acceptance?

I wish Sara would consider the best interests of the boys, above all.

I wish Shelby were still alive.