Working Backwards

I took copious notes when I arrived here.  Like an anthropologist intent on setting down every experience and interaction. And like every good novel about an obsessive compulsive note taker devoted to detailing with precision events that can never be replicated…the notes have ... .of course… been lost, ruined, taken in a figurative fire that is known in many circles as "Built in obsolescence." My angst over it is fairly
intense.  How can I possibly began to explain the past 7 years? (note photos)

AND yet.  Maybe the work was in the writing. 

The changes on every front were so monumental that perhaps the only or best way I could deal with the absolute unknowns surrounding our housing, money, and future was to chronicle the best way I knew possible. 

And perhaps looking back after five years I can see not every tree that meant so much at that time in my life, but at least the forest that we navigated and traversed. 

So, with the disclaimer, I hope we all realize there will be plot gaps, questions, random thoughts per usual.  Still, as is the watchword on this endeavor, “I’m just going to write because I cannot help it.”- Charlotte Bronte (still and always).