Where Was I?

Recently I met a childhood friend of Phil's and we were making conversation, passing the time and the subject turned to writing. SueAnn spent much of her life writing for a living - magazine articles, commentary - focused non-fiction in her field so keeping up my end of the conversation, and undoubtedly ego driven, I volunteered that I had recently done a significant writing project - this Blog.  It is not a secret and a number of people know of it and that is typically the end of the story.  So I was caught unawares when SuAnn wrote to Phil asking for my email so she could ask how to find the darn thing.  Of course the soaring ego was tempered with the fears, the fear of sharing so much of myself and those around me, the fear that it would be banal when read after the fact, the fear the writing would not measure up - all the usual suspects.  And thrown into the mix was Phil's fear of what she may learn about him, her very old friend. Not the gayness, he has been out to her for a while, more any embarrassments.  Uncharted territory.

At first it seemed easy - Phil was my excuse, easy to hide. But then an email, an explanation.  SueAnn's brother passed away, maybe five years ago, and after his death it was uncovered that he had a gay side.  She loved her brother and is still coming to grips, grips with the secret, grips with the gayness, grips with what he must have gone through.  Upon reading that, and a few further emails, a plan was hatched.  Phil does not join my tale until rather late in the story; by the time SueAnn gets that far, we can see if editing is necessary or if the fears are all in our minds. 

So it was with a sense of excitement and trepidation that I opened this blog, saw the picture and the layout, and in essence said hello to an old friend. I often think about this friend, frequently have thoughts that need to be put to paper - not for anyone reading but so I will have a chance to revisit some day.  I know, they sell diaries, but it just is not the same for me for reasons I cannot understand no less explain.  And then while there, standing in the foyer, a quick peek inside; I read the last post.  It was going to be part 1 of yet another triptych but there it was, a full year later, standing all alone, a story started and never finished.  There was work - there is always work - and there were distractions but that was not why the post was all alone.  It was that Carrie was peeking and I was afraid to share and afraid to hurt, hurt more than I seem to do regularly.  I suspect that after a year it is quiet out there, no one around and that is okay.  But I do miss this place and maybe it is time for a few more visits.