Tuesday, 9:47pm

The cursor sat there for probably four minutes. I had the post open in the editor, the draft I've rewritten more times than I care to count, and I just, sat there with my hand on the mouse, not doing anything. The lamp on my desk was the only light on in the apartment. I could hear the neighbor's TV faintly through the wall. Some late local news, I think. And I thought, okay. Okay.

I hit publish.

I'm not going to recap what the post is about here, except to say that someone left a comment on something I wrote a while back, months ago now, asking why I started this blog in the first place. And I wrote four different answers. Three of them were fine. The fourth one was honest. The fourth one had my mom's name in it for the first time, which sounds small and probably reads small to anyone who doesn't know why I'd been avoiding it. It's not a bad story. It's just mine, and I'd gotten used to keeping that particular corner of it dark.

So now it's up.

hands on the closed laptop. it's done.

I closed the laptop right after, didn't wait to see if anyone would read it, didn't check back. Just closed it and sat in the chair for a little while. It was a Tuesday evening in June and it was warm and the neighbor's TV kept going and that was it. That was the whole thing. I ran this morning, same route, and I remember thinking about nothing in particular, which is its own kind of answer to a question I didn't know I was still asking.

I don't really know what comes next. That's not a dramatic statement, it's just true. I think I'll find out.