The goal to contribute at least one post to my Daily Blog is being realised. I have written and published something for the last eleven days, and feel blessed to be able to do so. Daily thoughts turned into daily blogs; short stories, poems or sayings, some singing loudly of who I am and what I believe in, others offering softly whispered sentiments. They offer me a corporeal way to remember something of each day. My mind travels along roads and highways, weaving and sweeping through villages and towns interspersed with stunning landscapes and perfect milieus. Thoughts fade in and out with some details of my memories lost, maybe somewhere in cyberspace. Perhaps one day I’ll retrieve them. Who knows? Who cares? Well, I care, which means I need to find ways to repossess them, in some form or shape. Colours and smells may increase my ability to grab onto them again; talking to others, looking at old photos may help. Making sense of them might be lost to me, but retrieving them is important. My memories form the basis of my own private social history, will tell my children and their children who I was; without writing them down now, this will be lost. Talking with others, visiting the places my mind tries to travel along might just be enough to bring about a response that surely will be followed by words. I can still think well enough to write down my thoughts, at least as long as I write them down at the exact moment they appear. The vicissitudes I now face can be thwarted through my words, as I realise now my travels through the past must be with pen and paper in hand, or dictaphone in tow, no longer just in my mind.